


HOOTS! THEM!

by steeleye



Series: It's Grim Up North. [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Horror, Humor, Romance, Science Fiction, xover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow and Kennedy on the verge of breaking up? Monstrous wild Haggises roaming the Highlands? Will the bagpipe music prove too much for our heroes? Confused? It gets grimmer the further north you go.</p><p>Now with the CORRECT last two chapters posted!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

HOOTS! THEM!

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Buffyverse or the movie ‘THEM!’; neither do I claim authorship of any script/canon words used. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** The Buffyverse with the 1954 Sci-Fi classic ‘THEM!’.

**Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation:** Written in glorious English-English. English and American idioms are used throughout this fic.

**Timeline:** Post BtVS 7, no comics.

**Words:** Nine chapters of 2500+ words.

**Warnings:** Minor femslash, minor violence.

**Summary:** Willow and Kennedy on the verge of breaking up? Monstrous wild Haggises roaming the Highlands? Will the bagpipe music prove too much for our heroes? Confused? It gets grimmer the further north you go.

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea, Cleveland, England.**

The rain beat a steady tattoo against the window of Buffy’s office. The wind howled like a being in torment as it whipped the sea to a frenzy; waves crashed and broke upon the beach to the east of the old holiday camp. Buffy stood looking out the window at the grey, rain-heavy clouds; she hugged herself and shivered. Sighing despondently she turned to survey her tiny little office.

Although the money from the old council accounts was starting to flow into the Slayer Organisation’s own coffers, so far there was little to show for it. There wasn’t even a PC on her old battered desk, Willow said the new computers would arrive next week along with the internet connection. Sighing heavily once more she sat down on her squeaky chair and looked glumly at the few slim folders on her desk.

Everyone seemed to have something to do except her, she’d never thought it was going to be like this when they’d first set up in England. Everyone had work to do; Willow and Kennedy were up in Scotland investigating rumours of Highland vampire clans. Giles was in London interviewing prospective watchers and researching at the British Museum. Faith (with help from Violet) was happily slaying anything that popped its head above the parapet in northern England. Dawn was at school in Middlesbrough and Xander was working for a local building contractor and helping out whenever he could.

Everyone had something to do and someone to be with, everyone except Buffy or so she told herself. She longed for a renewed purpose in her life; she longed to feel someone’s arms around her, their lips on hers someone to… With a sudden feeling of dismay, Buffy realised she’d not dated once since the fall of Sunnydale the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. Her hand drifted down to open the bottom drawer of her desk. Opening the drawer to reveal the half full bottle of vodka and the glass that lay there, Buffy looked up at the clock on the wall; half-past-ten it said. Slowly Buffy reached for the bottle and glass and put them on top of her desk; was it still too early for a drink?

“What the hell,” she told herself; no one would see, no one would know or care if they did.

She poured herself a stiff half glass of vodka, raising the glass to her lips she sat back in her chair and took a sip. Looking around her bare little office she started to feel sorry for herself again, deserted by her friends; she doubted anyone felt as lonely and dispirited as she did just now.

0=0=0=0

**The Scottish Highlands, Scotland.**

The Scottish Highlands rolled past the window of the hire car at a steady fifty miles an hour. The road wound between the heather clad crags rising and falling as it passed over the undulations in the valley floor. The interior of the car was silent except for the sound of the motor as it purred soporifically under the hood; neither Willow or Kennedy had spoken for miles.

Glancing over to the driver’s seat Willow watched for a moment as Kennedy drove them on through the snow peaked mountains; her eyes glued to the road and her hands riveted to the wheel as she tried to ignore the woman sitting beside her. Willow sighed sadly and looked out at the heather that sped by in a seemingly endless sea of purple dotted here and there with patches of snow. Okay, thought Willow, we can’t go on like this; we need to start talking this through.

“Let’s talk this over,” Willow pleaded, “its not like we’re dead…don’t leave me hanging here sweetie.”

“You messed with my mind, Willow,” Kennedy’s eyes glanced away from the road and towards her one time lover, “I’m still trying to decide whether I can forgive you for that.”

“But honey,” Willow felt her lip began to tremble as tears started to burn her eyes, “I thought it was for the best...”

“That excuse is wearing pretty thin,” Kennedy interrupted angrily as she struggled to control her temper, now was not a good time to get into a yelling match, “You just went ahead and did it; Willow knows best; don’t bother the little slayer with things like whether she wants her mind fucked with.”

“I’m sorry,” Willow sniffed quietly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, “I only thought...I’m sorry.”

0=0=0=0

Withdrawing into herself, Willow looked once again at the passing countryside and wished she’d never gone to that Christmas party. The room had been hot and crowded and she’d walked out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. Maybe she’d had a little too much wine, maybe she’d been feeling pissed at Kennedy because she’d appeared to be more eager to go out on patrol with Vi than stay and keep her company.

Whatever the reasons she knew now they were only excuses; she was a grown woman, she should have known better. She’d let it happen, she could have said ‘no’. If the guy had pushed his luck she could have snapped her fingers and he’d be sitting on a lily pad eating flies. But she hadn’t, she’d let this happen, so when Kennedy returned from her patrol she found Willow in the arms of some anonymous watcher wannabe checking out his back teeth with her tongue.

Then, to make matters worse, she’d tried to wipe the memory of it from Kennedy’s mind, but she’d dropped the crystal a couple of days later and everything had come flooding back like some evil, malignant tide. If it hadn’t been for the fact that they’d already planned to investigate some old vampire stories in the Scottish Highlands. Willow felt sure that Kennedy would have walked out already. As it was they’d hardly spoken a word over the last few days.

0=0=0=0

Watching the road in front of her Kennedy tried to sort through her jumbled thoughts. What was she to do? She tried to concentrate on the road but her heart was near breaking point. Did she love Willow enough to forgive her? Or would there always be that nagging doubt that she’d been manipulated in some subtle way and she’d been fooled into forgiving her?

It wasn’t as if this was the first time either; there’d been that time back in Sunnydale when Willow had sucked the energy from her. She’d been able to forgive her then because it had been an emergency and there’d been no time for explanations. She’d felt weak and sick for a little while afterwards, but Willow had seen her through it and Kennedy had decided that life was looking to be way too short not to forgive her.

But this…this was too much just to forgive without there being consequences. This was like being abused or even raped, she’d had no choice in what happened to her and if it happened once it could happen again. She’d read an article in Cosmo once about spousal abuse and she didn’t want that to happen to her; she might be the big tough, strong slayer, but if Willow could mess with her mind there was no knowing what she might do to her.

Stifling a sob, Kennedy realised that it would have to end, she’d tell Willow when they stopped for the night. It’d been good for awhile but it had to end now, she glanced over at Willow, how could she ever trust her again? Turning away quickly so Willow didn’t see the look on her face, Kennedy happened to look out of her side window. She caught a glimpse of movement as something pink darted between two clumps of heather. Realising what she’d just seen Kennedy stood on the brakes and brought the car to a shuddering halt.

0=0=0=0

Deep in her heart Willow knew it was all over between her and Kennedy; how could it not be? Hadn't she’d done the same thing to Tara, and then to all her friends? She didn’t seem to be able to learn; magic and relationships just didn’t mix. Maybe that was why magic users always ended up as bitter lonely people who eventually rejected everyone who loved them. Resting her chin on her hand as Willow looked out the window, she laughed bitterly to herself as the tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

Slamming against her seatbelt Willow looked up and started to pay attention to the world again. The car had skidded to halt across the road; looking over to Kennedy’s side of the car she saw the driver’s door open and her seat empty.

“She can’t be walking out on me here,” Willow opened her own door and stepped out onto the road, “Kennedy what’s wrong?” as if she needed to ask.

Obviously Kennedy couldn’t stand to be near her for one minute longer and had left her right here in the middle of nowhere. Willow frowned, no that couldn’t be right, maybe Kennedy was going to leave her here!

“Willow!” it was Kennedy’s voice calling her from the other side of the road, “Come quick and bring a blanket.”

0=0=0=0

Struggling to control the car Kennedy managed to bring it to a halt; an instant later she’d undone her safety belt, opened the door and was out running through the heather dodging around clumps of gorse until she caught sight of her target.

“Hey!” she called, “Little girl!”

The girl didn’t appear to hear her as Kennedy quickly caught up and took hold of the kid by the shoulders.

“Hey!” Kennedy knelt down and turned the girl to face her.

The girl’s mousy blonde hair was done up in two plaits, she wore ‘Barbie’ pyjamas and clutched a toy bear in her hands; Kennedy guessed that she couldn’t be more than eight years old.

“What are you doing out here?” Kennedy looked into the girl’s eyes and frowned; it was like the girl was staring right through her, “Hey sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Again the child said nothing and just gazed off across the valley. Picking the child up in her arms Kennedy retraced her steps towards the road. Catching sight of the car and Willow standing in the road she called to her to come quick and bring a blanket. As she walked towards the car something caught her attention and she looked over her shoulder but the hillside seemed deserted. Frowning she shook her head, she was sure she’d heard the sound of bagpipes coming to her on the wind. No, she thought as she carried the child towards the car, no it must have just been the wind blowing through the wire of the nearby fence.

0=0=0=0

Helping Kennedy bundle the child up in the blanket she’d brought from the car, Willow looked out across the heather towards the mountainsides that formed the glen and shivered.

“I wonder where she came from?” looking up and down the valley, Willow could see none of the works of man other than the road and a few dry stone walls.

“She was walking towards us,” Kennedy helped Willow get the kid into the back of the car, “so, maybe if we drive on the way we were going we’ll see where she came from.” Kennedy looked Willow in the eye for the first time in what felt like days, “Perhaps you’d better sit in the back with her, share a little body heat, eh?”

“Sure,” Willow climbed into the back of the car and wrapped her arms around the girl, “I can’t believe anyone could miss her and let her wander around in the cold like this,” Willow stroked the girl’s hair as she spoke, “something must have happened.”

“Yeah,” after shutting Willow’s door, Kennedy climbed into the front and started the engine, “you think there’s been an accident or something?”

“Whatever,” Willow looked down at the girl and found she’d fallen asleep, “I think we’d better look into this.”

“Yep,” Kennedy sighed as she let out the clutch and the car started to move, “thought it was too quiet.”

0=0=0=0

Glancing at the map spread out on the passenger seat, Kennedy saw that there was a farm or something about a mile down the road and around a bend in the valley; maybe the kid came from there. Whether she did or she didn’t they were sure to have a phone so they could call this in. They’d found their cellphones (‘mobiles’ as the British called them) didn’t work in the glens so they had to rely on landlines.

As she drove, Kennedy found herself once again examining her feelings towards Willow. What had really hurt her, apart from the whole mind-rape thing, was she’d caught Willow with a guy. She knew Willow had a history with guys, there’d been ‘Oz’ and she’d had an unplanned ‘fling’ with Xander years ago. But, Kennedy had sort of assumed that was all over with; Willow had worked it out of her system, found out who and what she was.

Having never shown the slightest interest in boys, she’d never even been on a single date…ever. Kennedy didn’t hate men, she just didn’t have any sexual urges towards them, she’d always known she ‘liked’ girls since she was little. It’d all made Willow’s betrayal of her far worse, she couldn’t live with that. 

Coming around a bend in the road, Kennedy looked over to her right and saw a large two story house standing on a small hillock near a mountain stream. There were several cars parked outside, but no lights shone from its windows and no smoke rose from its chimneys. Bringing the car to a halt at the end of the track that led to the building, Kennedy read the sign; ‘Bide a Wee’, Hotel and Resort claimed the sign. Taking a deep breath she turned the wheel and drove along the track towards the silent, grey, stone building.

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Zipping up her jacket, Kennedy turned to look at Willow.

“How’s she doing?” she asked nodding to the girl.

“Better, I think,” Willow replied uncertainly, “she’s sleeping now, but I think we should get her to a doctor or something.”

Biting back the cutting remark she was going to make, of course she knew the girl needed to see a doctor; Kennedy gestured towards the silent house. No one had come out to see who their visitors were, no lights were on and the place looked deserted.

“Hopefully they’ll be able to help,” Kennedy started to open her door and get out, then stopped for a moment and turned back to Willow, “Umm, maybe you should get in the front and keep the engine running till I’ve had a look around, just to be on the safe side, you know?”

“You think there might be something of the weird going on?” Willow looked nervously up at the dark, silent house no doubt imagining all the terrors that lurked within.

“Better safe than dead,” Kennedy agreed.

“Okay,” Willow climbed out her door and walked around to the driver’s door; she placed her hand on the door and accidentally touched Kennedy’s hand, “sorry” she mumbled; she so wanted to hug her girl and kiss her for luck, instead she just said; “Be careful.”

“I was born careful,” Kennedy smiled a confident smile, “my middle name’s ‘careful’.”

As if to prove it she walked around to the trunk, opened the lid and pulled out a heavy bladed knife from her weapons bag. After testing the blade for sharpness she held it behind her back and walked towards the house.

0=0=0=0

The wind whistled around Kennedy’s ears as she looked up at the big front door; she was snug enough in her wind proof jacket, trousers and heavy hiking boots. Her outfit completed by a soft woollen bobble hat, gloves and matching scarf. Everything she wore was the best she could find; as was everything Willow wore, the expense didn’t bother her. The betrayal did, the money she’d lavished on Willow didn’t matter she liked buying her friends gifts, but to have it all throw back in her face, that was too much, that hurt.

This wasn’t getting her into the hotel, she told herself to forget about her own problems and think about getting in…recriminations could come later. Studying the heavy door Kennedy decided that it might just resist even her strength and anyway the time for breaking down doors wasn’t yet…however much she wanted to vent her hurt on something inanimate; or maybe there were demons inside, Kennedy smiled hopefully.

Instead of unleashing slayer strength and violence on the door, Kennedy pressed the doorbell. She could just hear it ring deep in the house; after waiting a minute or so she rang again, this time keeping her finger on the button for a whole minute, still nothing. Next she tried knocking loudly and yelling through the letter box; after deciding she’d made enough noise to wake the dead she turned to look at Willow and shrugged.

Okay, Kennedy still didn’t want to break down the door; it’d look odd if they had to call in the authorities. Weak, little, rich-girl; broken down fortress-like door? No, she didn’t want to make up the story to explain that one. Shrugging under her layers of clothing, Kennedy started to walk around the house; there must be another way in. She looked in all the windows as she passed; the rooms she could see into were dark and empty. The furniture looked forlorn and deserted; some windows still had their curtains drawn.

Coming around the corner of the building and into the garden at the back of the house, Kennedy realised she shouldn’t have worried about not breaking down the front door. No one would have noticed, they’d be too busy investigating what had happened out here. The lawn had been churned up as if by many feet; she studied the footprints that she’d found all over the garden for a moment. They looked like nothing she’d ever seen before…well, that wasn’t quite true. To her untutored eye they looked like the foot prints that she imagined a large ape would make. Maybe Willow could work out what they were.

Turning to look at the house, Kennedy noted how the back door had been smashed in and the stonework around the door loosened. Advancing on the wrecked doorway and hefting the knife in her hand Kennedy wished she'd brought a bigger axe or something. As she stepped through the ruined portal she stopped and reassessed her earlier assumption; the doorway hadn’t been smashed in, it had been pulled out.

“Odd,” she muttered as she stepped into the kitchen.

The kitchen looked as if a troop of elephants had marched through it looking for something they’d lost. Food and bits of furniture littered the floor; stoves and fridges had been ripped from their mounting and hurled across the room. Whatever had done this was very strong; Kennedy glanced at her knife thinking how inadequate it looked. 

“Come-on,” Kennedy told herself, “big, tough, slayer now, you can deal.”

Walking through into what had been a dining room, Kennedy noted that not only was whatever had done this very strong, it didn’t quite fit through the doors. The door had been pushed off its hinges and there were marks on the door frame which indicated that while whatever it was; was quite wide but it wasn’t more that say four feet tall at the shoulder.

It was in the dinning room that she found the first blood trail; it zigzagged its way across the polished wooden floor then disappeared as if the body had been lifted up and carried away.

“Crap,” breathed Kennedy as she made her way out into the hall.

The story was the same here, furniture smashed up, the carpet ripped and stained with mud and blood. Standing for a moment to study the scene of destruction, Kennedy’s eyes fell on a bloody hand print on the floral wallpaper. She shivered with a mixture of cold and anger, the print was too small to be an adult’s. Shaking her head, she walked over to what had been the reception counter looking for a phone.

They needed to call the police, something like this couldn’t be covered up and anyway they needed to get medical help for the girl. Searching through the debris behind the counter she found a phone only to discover it had been ripped from its connection point. Continuing her search, Kennedy found herself in what had once been the hotel bar. Here there was very little damage, it looked as if whatever had attacked hadn’t bothered with the bar; maybe it didn’t like booze.

Seeing a phone on the wall behind the bar, Kennedy rushed around and nearly fell down an open hatch that led into the cellar. Stopping herself from falling she looked into the darkness of the cellar to see the body of a man crumpled up at the foot of the steps that led down from the bar. He was obviously dead, it looked to Kennedy as if something had crushed his ribs then thrown him down into the basement. What was more worrying was the shotgun with the bent barrels that lay next to the man. Stepping around the hole, Kennedy picked up the phone and was relieved to hear a dial tone. Quickly she dialled nine-nine-nine, the operator answered almost immediately.

“Which service do you require?” asked the operator her businesslike voice helping to calm Kennedy’s nerves.

For a moment Kennedy didn’t know what to say; could she only ask for one ‘service’ at a time, did she need to call again for another service? What if… Realising she’d been infected with a case of ‘Willow Babble’, she smiled to herself and spoke into the receiver.

“Police and Ambulance, please…” she gave the address as far as she knew it and the telephone number and explained that she’d be waiting outside. After being told that the police and ambulance could take up to twenty minutes before they arrived, due to the remoteness of the hotel, the operator asked if Kennedy needed her to stay on the line. Kennedy thanked her and said no, she’d be waiting in her car.

0=0=0=0

Fifteen minutes after she’d made her call a police patrol car pulled up outside the hotel, moments later it was followed by an ambulance. While Willow dealt with the girl and the paramedics, Kennedy walked over talk to the police sergeant who was standing next to his car while a younger constable searched around in the vehicle’s boot looking for something.

“You must be,” the sergeant consulted his note book, “Miss Scarpone,” he gave Kennedy a sideways look as he read her name, “I’m Sergeant Peterson.”

He held out his hand to Kennedy who shook it firmly, the sergeant nodded at the hotel.

“You say you found no one at home?” Peterson’s pencil hovered above his notebook.

“Only the dead guy in the cellar,” explained Kennedy, “I didn’t check upstairs; I thought I’d better wait for you to come along…and of course there’s the girl. I’m assuming she came from here.”

“Aye,” Peterson glanced over towards the ambulance where the paramedics were loading the girl aboard on a gurney, “you did right. Constable Blackburn!” Peterson shouted making Kennedy jump a little, “Get inside and check upstairs.”

“Right you are sergeant,” called Blackburn as he picked up a long black torch from out of the boot and crunched his way across the gravel forecourt towards the hotel.

“Right Miss,” Peterson put away his note book and looked up at the sky; it had grown dark and there were flecks of snow in the air, “If you’d like to show me this ‘body’.”

Kennedy thought she saw the quirk of a smile on the sergeant’s lips but she let it go, he’d soon see. Leading the policeman through the hotel and into the bar, she pointed down into the open cellar. Peterson crouched next to the hatch and looked down at the body pushing his cap onto the back of his head as he did so.

“Aye,” sighed the sergeant, “that’s a body right enough.” He shook his head sadly and stood up, “Looks as if he’s dead too, poor old Mr Johnson.”

“Aren’t you going to examine the body or something?” Kennedy wanted to know.

“No,” Peterson frowned at her, “why would I be wanting to do that?”

“Evidence?” suggested Kennedy, “Make sure he’s dead, maybe?”

The sergeant looked down at the body again.

“Has he given you any reason to believe he’s not deed?” Peterson asked seriously.

“‘Deed’? Oh! You mean ‘dead, well, um,” Kennedy scratched the back of her head, “now that you mention it…no.”

“Well there you are then,” replied Peterson softly, “no need to be climbing up and down when it’s perfectly obvious he’s deed.”

“Yes,” mumbled Kennedy, “I see that now.”

“Right you are then,” Peterson produced his notebook again, “can I ask you where you’ve going?”

“Oh, my friend and I have business in Inverlochty,” Kennedy guessed correctly that was were the police and ambulance came from, “we were going to stay at the Loch Mockty Hotel.”

“Aye I know it well,” smiled Peterson, “Mrs McPherson’s place. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind staying on a day or so…to help with our inquiries, Miss Scarpone?”

“Of course,” Kennedy smiled, inwardly cursing her family name; everyone automatically assumed she was a gangster. “We were planning on staying several days anyway.”

“And your friend’s name?” Peterson asked pencil poised.

“Willow,” supplied Kennedy, “Willow Rosenberg.”

0=0=0=0

Climbing back into the hire car where Willow had been waiting all this time, Kennedy watched Peterson for a moment before starting the engine.

“What’s going on?” Willow wanted to know.

“Something weird,” for a moment Kennedy forgot that she was supposed to be feeling mega-pissed at Willow and betrayed, “I can feel it.”

“Something that requires our special talents?” Willow gave Kennedy a lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” Kennedy agreed eagerly, the slayer in her was sensing something amiss.

Driving the car back towards the road Kennedy filled Willow in on everything she’d seen and heard.

0=0=0=0

Being the most junior of the eight police officers based in Inverlochty, Constable Blackburn got all the crappy jobs. He sighed to himself; at least he was indoors and not standing out in the rain this time. He’d been told to guard the crime scene until the morning when someone would come and relieve him. What was he supposed to guard against he didn’t know and why did the place need guarding anyway? Cliff the SoCO had been and gone; he’d taken photographs and fingerprints. He’d taken samples of blood, he’d even taken a plaster cast of the strange footprints they’d found in the garden.

The coroner had taken away poor old Mr Johnson’s body; there was no one else here except him now; unless any of the guests happen to reappear. Yes, that was probably why he’d had to stay here. What would happen if one of the guests returned to find the hotel empty and smashed up? No, it was probably best if he stayed.

Walking through the hotel, Hamish Blackburn found himself in the kitchen. Someone had covered the hole where the door had been with a tarpaulin. A freezing wind blew through the gape between the tarpaulin and the wall. Hamish tried to tidy up a little then set to making himself a cup of tea and a sandwich. As he worked he thought about the American gangster girl and her ‘friend’, he smirked to himself as he wondered what sort of ‘friends’ they were.

It was quite obvious to him that the Scarpone woman was a mob hit-woman and had no doubt murdered everyone in the hotel. However, even this hard bitten killer, that she undoubtedly was, couldn’t stomach killing the little girl. So, she and her ‘friend’ had pretended to find her wondering about the glens by herself. As far as Hamish’s simple mind was concerned it was an open and shut case. He couldn’t quite see why Sergeant Peterson hadn’t arrested her there and then!

Shaking his head at the strange motives of senior police sergeants, Hamish was just about to take his tea and sandwich somewhere warmer when he heard a low moaning sound from outside. He stopped and cocked his head to listen, thinking he’d been imagining things he was just about to go on into the bar when he stopped again; he’d definitely heard something this time.

Pausing to put down his mug of tea and sandwich, he turned towards the door and listened carefully. There it was again, a sort of whistling, moaning, tooting noise like someone playing the pipes badly. Hamish frowned angrily, he bet himself it was one of his so-called colleagues trying to play a trick on him. Drawing his baton he walked briskly over to the doorway. Yes, there it was again, it sounded like it was coming from the bottom of the garden. He stepped out into the freezing night air and looked up, the moon and stars were covered in thick low cloud. He drew his torch and shone it around the garden.

“Okay,” he called, “you’ve had ya fun, noo come inside its tae cold to be playing silly buggers.”

There was no answer to his call and the strange hooting had stopped, Hamish shrugged his shoulders. If whoever it was wanted to stay outside in the freezing cold they could, it was no skin off his nose. He turned to go back into the hotel and found himself staring into two evil bloodshot eyes. He screamed as something hard and sharp rammed itself into his belly ripping his stomach wide open. The last thing he heard as shock and blood loss took him was a sound like bagpipes being played right close by.

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Lying on her bed in the hotel room, Willow stared at the door to the bathroom. The sound of Kennedy showering came to her ears clearly, Willow sighed longingly. Only a few short days ago she’d be in there showering with her lover, now, because of a stupid mistake…of her stupid mistake, she corrected herself, that would never happen again, unless… No, Willow pushed the idea of using magic to the back of her mind; magic was how she’d got herself into this mess and magic would only make it worse. She wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks; she’d have to face up to reality. Kennedy was as good as gone; the only question that remained was when she would finally walk out. Hearing the shower being switched off, Willow picked up the magazine resting in her lap and pretended to read.

0=0=0=0

Shutting the bathroom door behind her, Kennedy tightened her robe around herself and went over to the little dressing table by the window. The hotel wasn’t near as bad as she’d thought it was going to be; not the Ritz by any means (Oh, for the Ritz she sighed). No, it was quite comfortable in a homesy way; she plugged in her hair-dryer and started to dry her hair.

Maybe, once she’d finished up here, she’d go down to London, stop off at the Ritz and visit a few of her old school friends. Of course she’d have to tell little miss ‘St Buffy of the Stake’, what she was doing, but she doubted after all that’d happened she’d seriously try and stop her from leaving. No doubt she’d be on Willow’s side; Kennedy paused in her hair drying for a moment, but wasn’t that what bestfriends were for? 

She ran her fingers through her hair and looked at her reflection; maybe she’d get her hair cut shorter. It got in her eyes sometimes when she was fighting and it was such a hassle getting blood and goo out of it after a fight…and when was she going to tell Willow she was leaving? She wouldn’t just leave her without saying anything, whatever had happened she owed her at least that.

“Willow?” Kennedy switched off her hair-dryer and started to brush her hair vigorously, “When we’ve finished here, I’m going down to London for a week or two. Then, unless something happens I’ll be going home to see my father.”

“Oh!” Willow put down the magazine she’d been pretending to read while she’d actually been watching Kennedy’s every movement. “That’ll be nice…for you.”

“Yeah,” Kennedy put down her brush and turned to face Willow, “I’m going to ask Buffy if I can stay States-side, I don’t think she’ll say no.”

There it was, Willow thought sadly, she’d been dumped; not that it wasn’t her own silly fault.

“You can keep the flat and all the stuff,” Kennedy turned back to the mirror and started to apply her make-up, “the rent’s paid for another six months anyway. I’ll just take my personal stuff…damn!”

Kennedy dashed away the tear that had inconsiderately appeared just as she was applying her eye-liner, she looked at Willow’s reflection in the mirror. She’d buried her head in her pillow and her shoulders were shaking, Kennedy didn’t think she was laughing.

“Damn you, Willow Rosenberg!” Kennedy sniffed quietly, “Wasn’t my love good enough for you?”

0=0=0=0

Looking out of the window of the police station restroom, Sergeant Peterson noted the fine layer of snow that covered everything in a coating of white. He’d stayed in the station bunk-room the previous night not bothering to go home to his little cottage on the outskirts of town. Picking up the two mugs of tea he’d made he took them out to the front desk. Placing one mug in front of PC McHenry, he walked over to the window by the front door and looked out at the cold morning.

“Looks like we’ll be in for some proper snow later today, Janet,” Peterson sipped his tea.

“Aye, y’probably right sergeant,” replied the young police woman from behind her desk.

“Any news?” he asked, McHenry would know what he meant; the possible murders at the ‘Bide a’ Wee’ hotel was the most exciting thing to have happened in Inverlochty since…well, since he could remember!

“Coroners still examining the body,” explained McHenry, “they e-mailed copies of the photos of the footprints to Glasgow University.” McHenry sounded impressed, “They’re sending a couple of experts up to have a look around.”

“Well,” Peterson drank the last dregs of his tea, “I hope for their sakes they don’t mind snow. What about the girl?”

“Och, the poor wee child,” McHenry shook her head sadly: “she’s up at the cottage hospital, she’s still not said a word to anyone.”

“Hmm,” Peterson turned and took the empty tea cups back to the rest room, “this is a bad do, Janet. Mark my words nothing good’ll come o’ this.”

“You don’t think,” gasped Janet dramatically, “you don’t think we’re…”

“Aye, Constable McHenry,” announced Sergeant Peterson solemnly, “We’re dooooomed!”

The two police officers shared a quiet laugh together; a little graveyard humour helped you cope with tragedy.

“Do me a favour, Janet,” Peterson glanced at his notebook, “call those two American women, um, Scarpone and Rosenberg…”

“Scarpone?” giggled McHenry, “Gangster is she?”

“No,” smiled Peterson, “at least I don’t think so; anyway, ask them to pop in to see me at about ten-thirty would you?”

“Aye, sergeant,” Janet made a note in a desk diary, “and what will you be doing while I’m completing this important piece of police work.”

“I’ll take the Rover and go and collect young Hamish,” Peterson smiled at the thought of the young constable spending the night at the ‘possible’ murder scene all by himself. “Has he called in?”

“No,” Janet replied, “should I call him?” she smiled impishly, “I think I could find time amongst all this important investigating you’ve given me to do.”

“Och, no” Peterson grinned, “you’ve enough on your plate as it is, don’t fret y’self. He’s probably asleep in one of the guest rooms anyway.”

0=0=0=0

The tires of the Police Land Rover crunched on the frozen snow as Sergeant Peterson pulled up outside the ‘Bide a’ Wee’ hotel. Opening his door, he stepped out into the cold, raw, highland air. He shivered for a moment and pulled his weather proof jacket around him more snugly. Here the snow was nearly an inch thick, the local council hadn’t got around to clearing or salting the roads out here so he suspected that given another good fall of snow the hotel would be cut off. Looking up at the sky, Peterson nodded his head in agreement with himself. The clouds were dark grey and hid the tops of the mountains that formed the glen. The snow was probably a couple of feet deep up there already. The sooner he found young Hamish and they were heading towards town the better. Walking over to the front door he lifted the police tape and pushed the door open.

“HAMISH!” he yelled into the cold dark hallway, there was no answer.

Walking on through the hotel and into the kitchen, Peterson noticed how cold it was inside the building, possible only a degree or two higher than the outside temperature. Odd, he thought, young Hamish was from these parts he knew how to make himself comfortable. Then again maybe he had…upstairs. Peterson smiled to himself; the young scallywag was probably up stairs as snug as a bug in one of the guest rooms

It was only when Peterson turned to walk out into the hall again that he noticed the abandoned mug of tea and sandwich lying on the kitchen worktop. The tea was stone cold, the sandwich lay on its plate with a couple of bites taken from it, the bread had started to curl around the edges.

“Hamish?” Peterson called more quietly as he turned to survey the kitchen once more; the only answer he got was the moaning of the wind as it blew through the hole where the door had been.

Walking over to the tarpaulin, Peterson pushed it aside; the garden was covered in pristine snow that showed not a mark from a struggle or any footsteps. Just as he was about to turn away and start to search upstairs for young Hamish, Peterson froze in his tracks and turned to look outside again. His eyes roamed over the frozen, snow covered hill sides, already a few fluffy white flakes were beginning to fall from the darkened sky. He strained his eyes and ears, he saw nothing unusual; but, he was almost sure he could hear the sound of someone playing the pipes somewhere up the glen. The sound came to him on the wind as it floated down the valley to Peterson’s ears. It wasn’t a tune he recognised but it was definitely a tune and it made his blood run cold in his veins. Shivering with more than cold, Peterson raised his radio to his lips.

“Hello, Janet?” Peterson didn’t bother with correct radio procedure.

“Sarge?” Janet McHenry picked up the tone of worry in Peterson’s voice.

“I cannae find young Hamish,” Peterson looked out over the snow clad heather once more; “he’s probably wondered off and got lost. Send Patel and MacDonald out to help me look for him.”

“Shall I call Mountain Rescue?” Janet offered.

“Aye,” Peterson nodded to himself, “just ask them to be on standby, would you?”

“Will-do, Sarge.”

“Oh and Janet,” Peterson had just remembered something, “could you ask Inspector McEdwards to interview those Americans please. I’ll be staying out here.”

“Right you are,” replied Janet as she signed off.

0=0=0=0

To be honest, Willow was glad to have something to do; after the bombshell of this morning and a rather strained breakfast. Being interviewed by a police inspector had been something of a welcome distraction; not that they’d been able to tell the senior uniformed officer much. They’d been driving, they’d seen the girl and picked her up before driving on to the hotel in hopes of finding a telephone. Finding the hotel smashed up deserted and a dead body in the beer cellar they’d called the police.

“Och,” muttered the Inspector, he was a large grey haired man in his fifties; Willow suspected that this would be his last job before retiring. “That was braw brave of ye tae go intae the hotel by y’sel.”

His accent was almost impenetrable at times.

“Seemed like the thing to do,” Kennedy replied offhandedly, “I didn’t think about it at the time. Someone had to do it and Ms Rosenberg was looking after the girl, so…”

“Aye, of course,” the Inspector nodded his head slowly.

Smiling inwardly, Willow reflected that if there had been something lurking in the hotel she doubted that it would have survived any encounter with Kennedy or indeed herself. Had it been anything, monster or human it would probably be little more than grease spot by now. The sound of a soft knock on the door broke Willow out of her murderous musings. A female police officer stuck her head around the door.

“Sir?” Constable McHenry spoke softly, “The coroners' here to see you, and Sergeant Peterson would like a word.”

“Of course,” Inspector McEdwards got slowly to his feet, “if you ladies would excuse me for a moment?”

He headed for the door and froze in mid stride; Willow lowered her hand and turned to look at Kennedy.

“Can you feel it?” she asked.

“The ‘atmosphere’ you mean?” Kennedy glanced around at the frozen police inspector, sometimes she forgot just how powerful Willow was.

“There’s definitely something of the weird going on,” Willow spoke rapidly; “we need to get, totally involved.”

“Agreed,” Kennedy nodded her head.

Standing up, Willow made another gesture and the Inspector started to move again.

“Inspector?” Willow called after the man; he turned to look at Willow his eyes slightly glazed, “My friend and I haven’t been quite honest with you…”

Willow’s voice took on a sort of echo like quality, Kennedy could feel the magic worm its way into the policeman’s mind she half expected Willow to tell him that, ‘these aren’t the droids he was looking for’, however she didn’t, instead she told him;

“I’m actually Doctor Rosenberg from UCLA, and Ms Scarpone is my assistant,” Willow sounded so convincing that even Kennedy started to believe her, “we’re criminologists. We might be able to help with your investigation.”

“Y’cane?” replied the Inspector dreamily before he seemed to shake himself and coughed to clear his voice, “I mean, you can?”

“Yes,” Willow smiled confidently; she’d tried this on the Sunnydale PD once, it’d worked but she’d had to reinforce the suggestion all the time for it to take hold. 

Since then she’d refined the spell, how she could hit her subject with a powerful suggestion. It helped if it was something the subject wanted to hear and it looked to her that this was exactly something Inspector McEdwards wanted to hear. He was desperately out of his depth and he could do with all the good news he could get.

“Why that’s wonderful news,” Inspector McEdwards smiled broadly, “if you’d like to follow me, we’ll see what everyone wants to say.”

0=0=0=0

Beating the snow off his jacket, Sergeant Peterson stood in the reception area of the police station in the middle of a rapidly expanding pool of melting snow.

“Is it snowing Sergeant?” Constable McHenry held a mug of steaming tea out to him and gave him a welcoming smile.

“Aye, Janet,” Peterson shrugged off his jacket and exchanged it for the tea mug, “just a wee bit.”

The truth was it was almost a blizzard outside, it was only midday and it was nearly as dark as night. They’d had no luck finding young Hamish and it looked as if the Mountain rescue boys were about to call off their search. Their search dogs had had no luck picking up a trail. Petal, MacDonald and himself had searched the hotel from top to bottom…twice. There’d been no sign of young Hamish; maybe tomorrow the weather would be better and they could get some RAF search helicopters in.

Going through to the squad room, Peterson found Inspector McEdwards, the coroner and the two American women. Peterson frowned at the women then looked at his Inspector.

“Good news, Sergeant,” beamed McEdwards, “it seems our two visitors maybe able to help us out.”

“It does?” Peterson was a little confused, how could two American tourists be of any help?

“Yes,” smiled McEdwards, “Dr Rosenberg and Ms Scarpone are from UCLA…they’re criminologists.”

“Oh!” Peterson scratched the back of his head as the spell penetrated his mind, “That might well be useful, sir.” He smiled at Willow and Kennedy accepting the word of his Inspector without question, “Welcome aboard.”

“Now Dr Putnam,” McHenry turned to the coroner, “how did Mr Johnson die?”

“Ye can take y’pick,” shrugged the aged doctor who acted as Inverlochty’s coroner. “Old Johnson could have died in any one of four ways.”

“Go on,” encouraged Willow stepping forward.

“In layman’s terms,” continued the doctor, “his neck was broken, his back was broken just above his waist and his ribs have been crushed. All these injuries would have killed him without the fractured skull from being thrown into the cellar.” The doctor paused for a moment to let his words sink in, “I also found gun shot residue on his clothes and hands, I’d say he fired at least twice before he was killed…”

“Old Johnson was an excellent shot,” commented Peterson, “he could hit anything he could see.”

“Aye, no doubt,” agreed Putnam, “well here’s one for Sherlock Holmes,” Putnam shook his head in disbelief, “Johnson had enough Tatties and Neeps in him to kill twenty men!”

There was a stunned and on Willow and Kennedy’s part, mystified, silence in the room as this information sank in.

“So,” Inspector McEdwards cleared his throat, “you think it was murrrder then, Doctor?”

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

“No,” Dr Putnam glared at Inspector McEdwards, “he broke his aine spine in three places, crushed his aine ribs then threw himself in the cellar to commit suicide! OF COURSE IT WAS BLOODY MURDER!”

“Doctor!” Sergeant Peterson laid a restraining hand on the irate doctor’s shoulder before nodding towards Willow and Kennedy, “Ladies present.”

“Oh well in that case,” Inspector McEdwards spoke as if nothing had happened, “I wonder if Dr Rosenberg has any observations she’d like to make?”

“Um,” Willow looked at all the expectant faces turned towards her, “well, like, it sounds like a gang, you know? It’s difficult to make any real…um…”

“What Dr Rosenberg means to say is,” Kennedy came to the rescue, “it’s difficult to make any observations with so little data to go on; we need more evidence.”

“Yes,” Willow agreed quickly, “that’s it…more evidence,” she said with all the conviction she could muster.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door and Constable McHenry came into the room and spoke quietly to Sergeant Peterson.

“So,” Inspector McEdwards stood with his arms behind his back as he swayed gently back and forth occasionally bending at the knee. “So, to recap; we have one dead man, one missing constable, and nine missing hotel staff and guests…”

“Make that three missing constables,” announced Sergeant Peterson grimly, “we’ve lost contact with Patel and MacDonald.”

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room with the possible exception of Kennedy who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Good god man!” exclaimed McEdwards as he staggered back to support himself against the wall, “We’re running out of constables…I’ll call Glasgow for reinforcements.”

“Talking of Glasgow,” Peterson turned to look at Willow and Kennedy, “the two experts from Glasgow University will be arriving in half an hour at the helicopter pad. I wonder if you could go and collect them and fill them in; I better get out there and try and find Patel and MacDonald.”

“Of course,” agreed Willow and Kennedy in chorus.

With that the meeting broke up.

0=0=0=0

Half an hour later the slayer organisation representatives stood next to their hire car on the edge of the wind swept helipad. They watched as the big, yellow, Royal Navy, Sea King came in for a landing and blasted snow painfully into their faces. They watched through slitted eyes as two figures climbed out of the chopper followed by several bags of various sizes. As the two figures crouched with their luggage the helicopter roared back up into the leaden sky and turned to the east heading back towards its base. Running forward to help the new arrivals Willow and Kennedy saw an older man and a younger woman, both wrapped up in heavy hiking gear.

“Doctor Harold Medford, Glasgow University,” Medford held out his hand to Kennedy, “this is my wife Patricia,” he gestured to the woman next to him, “who is also Doctor Medford.”

“Nice to meet you doctors,” Kennedy shook hands with both Doctors Medford, “I’m Kennedy Scarpone and this is Dr Rosenberg, we’re from UCLA.”

Both Medfords shook hands with Willow.

“Can I ask your speciality?” asked the female Medford.

“We’re a criminologist,” replied Willow who was starting to feel more comfortable in her role, “and yours?”

“We work for the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries,” explained Harold Medford before his wife could say anything.

Noticing the significant look the couple gave each other, Kennedy immediately decided that the doctors Medford were hiding something. Without conscious thought she placed herself between the doctors and Willow. Helping the new comers with their luggage Willow and Kennedy got the two doctors into their car.

“We’ll take you to your hotel first and…” Kennedy was cut off in mid sentence by Harold Medford.

“Time may well be of the essence Miss Scarpone,” he explained, “take us to the police station and then we’ll go and see the child.”

Glancing over at Willow, Kennedy shrugged obviously the two Glasgow doctors wanted to get down to work straight away.

0=0=0=0

Standing in a row like three intrigued monkeys, Willow, Kennedy and Constable McHenry watched as the Doctors Medford muttered together as the examined the plaster cast of the foot print found at the hotel. Having taken off their outdoor clothes the women got their first proper look at the Medfords.

Harold Medford was a tall thin man in his early forties; he had a long horse like face with receding red hair. His wife, by contrast, was a short, busty blonde who was a good ten or so years younger than her husband. 

“I bet she was his ‘under’ graduate,” whispered Constable McHenry to Kennedy, “no doubt she got her M.R.S. soon after she got her doctorate.”

Being a victim of unrequited love McHenry wasn’t feeling very charitable just at this moment towards women who’d already found their true loves. Janet McHenry was madly in love with Sergeant Peterson; but because of the ‘rules’ she couldn’t use her own powers to melt his heart towards her; she’d have to wait for Mother Nature to take her course and quite honestly she was taking her own sweet time about it. The two American’s relationship was so obviously on the rocks; which made her sad, because it was quite obvious to her that they were still very much in love with each other. 

Kennedy covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile; Willow looked at Kennedy and McHenry with something approaching concern. Having not heard the previous by play between the two women she was worried that this might be the start of a new relationship for Kennedy. Deep down she still didn’t believe it was all over between them, they were still working so well together.

“Were there any more of these footprints?” asked Patricia Medford.

“Loads,” replied McHenry with a sniff, she checked the crime report, “SoCO said that the garden was covered in them; of course they’re all buried under the snow b’now.”

The doctors Medford turned to one another and shook there heads in what was obviously bewilderment.

“Um, doctors,” Willow stepped forward, “is there anything you can tell us? I mean, time is of the essence here. Like, there’s people missing and all.”

“We need to be certain before we say anything,” explained Patricia Medford.

“My wife’s quite right,” added Harold Medford, “if our findings are correct what we have to say might be so fantastical that people will refuse to believe it unless we have cast iron proof.”

“Now,” it was the female Doctor Medford who spoke, “if we could see the little girl you found?”

Turning towards each other Willow and Kennedy gave each other a worried look as visions of demon invasions ran riot in their minds.

0=0=0=0

Fifteen minutes after leaving the police station the Medfords and the Americans stood in the examination room at the Cottage Hospital. A Doctor Ann Finley brought in the little girl that Willow and Kennedy had found in the glen. The girl was seated in a wheel chair wrapped up in blankets as she stared blankly at the wall.

“What’s wrong with her, doctor?” asked Patricia Medford as she crouched down to look into the girl's eyes.

“Nothing physical that a few days rest won’t cure,” Doctor Finley explained, “but she hasn’t come out of shock yet. Normally I’d have sent her to Oban or even Glasgow, this sort of thing isn’t my speciality…I’m just an old country doctor,” the woman didn’t look much older than thirty, “setting bones and delivering babies is about all I’m used to.”

And, no doubt, watching reruns of Star Trek, Willow added to herself.

Joining his wife, Harold Medford stared at the child who gave no indication that there was anyone else in the room. Medford senior rubbed his chin and looked over at the nurse who’d been standing quietly by the door unnoticed by anyone.

“Could you bring me a plate of Tatties and Neeps please?” he asked quietly.

“Feeling hungry?” Doctor Finley wanted to know.

“No, Doctor,” Medford sighed as he stood up, “I just want to try a little experiment.”

“What the hell are ‘Tatties and Neeps’?” Willow whispered to Kennedy who just shrugged in answer.

Moments later the nurse reappeared with a plate of steaming potatoes and turnips, she handed them to Doctor Medford. Taking the plate from the nurse Harold Medford advanced on the girl and waved the plate with its load of steaming root vegetables under her nose.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” demanded Doctor Finley.

Just as she spoke the girl blinked her eyes and shook her head as if waking from a deep sleep. She sniffed cautiously at the tatties and neeps before drawing in a deep breath and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“HOOTS!” she screamed, “THEM! THEM!”

Standing back from the crying girl Harold cast his wife a worried look before looking over at Willow and Kennedy.

“Could you take us back to the police station,” he sighed, “this is worse than even I’d expected.”

“Of course,” Kennedy glanced at Willow her face in a deep frown.

Looking from Kennedy back to the Medfords, Willow wondered if ‘now’ was a good time to call for reinforcements of their own. However, until she knew what was going on she’d not know what to tell Buffy.

0=0=0=0

It wasn’t until nearly six o’clock that evening that everybody was brought together in the police station’s squad room. The Doctors Medford had been busy setting up a screen and a projector, and Harold Medford had been making telephone calls all afternoon as his wife worked busily on a laptop computer. They were both particularly tight lipped about what they were doing saying only that everyone would be fully informed at the meeting.

At about half-past-five two military officers in white snow camouflage uniforms arrived and immediately went into a private meeting with the two Glasgow University doctors. Willow got on the phone to Buffy to keep her abreast of the situation and asked if she could send more slayers if it proved necessary. Kennedy quietly went out to their car and checked her weapons.

0=0=0=0

Calling the meeting to order, Doctor Patricia Medford introduced everyone; there was Sergeant Peterson looking exhausted from spending all day searching for his missing constables. Inspector McEdwards sat at the far end of the table fiddling nervously with a pencil, he looked confused and worried. Willow and Kennedy sat beside each other desperate to know what was going on. Across the table from them sat the two military men, both tough, determined looking characters. The older of the two was introduced as, Brigadier Robert O’Brian, the younger man was introduced as Major Kibbee. They were both from the Royal Marines as their green berets attested.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Patricia Medford from next to the screen, “what I’m about to tell you, you may well find impossible to believe. You may well wish to dismiss the whole idea as some ghastly prank that has gone horribly wrong. But,” she paused for dramatic effect, “what my husband and I have discovered is profoundly disturbing.”

Nodding to her husband Patricia Medford pointed to the screen as her husband switched on a projector.

“As you are probably aware,” began Patricia Medford as she used a pointer to point at the strange creature on the screen. “the domesticated Haggis has been with us for more than four hundred years. They grow to the size of large pigs and are generally docile causing no more trouble than sheep or cattle.”

At a nod the picture changed to show what was obviously a larger more vicious looking creature.

“The domesticated Haggis,” continued the doctor to Willow and Kennedy’s growing disbelief, “is descended from the much more dangerous Wild Haggis. These creatures were about twice the size of the domesticated kind. As you can see it was covered in short course hair and equipped with tusks and had an evil temper. They were much like the wild boar compared to the modern day domesticated pig. They were long thought to be extinct. It would seem that we were wrong and at least one colony has survived unnoticed into modern times…”

“Hold on there, doctor,” Kennedy stood up quickly almost knocking over her chair, “are you trying to tell me that Haggises are real live creatures and not a dish containing sheep's heart, liver and lungs, minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt. All mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach for approximately three hours!”

“How do you know all that?” asked Willow looking up at her ex-girlfriend in disbelief.

“Domestic Science at school,” explained Kennedy, “just in case we had to cater for a ‘Burns Night’,” Kennedy shrugged resignedly adding, “it was that sort of school.”

“That’s correct,” replied Doctor Medford.

“Look,” Kennedy smiled nervously around the room only to be met with a stony silence, “is this all some sort of joke to fool the gullible Americans, like that thing about ‘Drop Bears’ in Australia, right?”

Actually, Kennedy knew for a fact that ‘Drop Bears’ were really demons and not carnivorous Koala Bears; the Australian slayers had been able to cover up the existence of the demons using the Drop Bear story as cover.

“I’m afraid not Miss Scarpone,” this time it was Brigadier O’Brian who spoke. “Ask most town children where eggs come from and most of them will say, ‘the supermarket’. It’s the same sort of thing with the Haggis.”

Kennedy sat down, more than a little stunned; the Brigadier signalled Doctor Medford to continue.

“The Wild Haggis was intelligent and aggressive, it was only successfully domesticated after the introduction of firearms,” Patricia Medford pointed to various slides of Scottish warriors firing old fashioned muskets at wildly charging Haggises. “The Haggis was particularly successful because of its ability to drive off all predictors other than man…they were one of the main causes of the decline of the Highland wolf population. The other thing that made them so successful was their willingness to eat anything.”

“You mean,” gasped Willow.

“Yes, Doctor Rosenberg,” continued Patricia, “although they prefer a vegetable diet they are quite willing to eat flesh. In fact I’d say the only reason we may be coming into contact with them now is that the resent hard winters have driven them from the mountain fastnesses into the lowlands looking for food.”

Letting this information sink in for a moment, Doctor Medford nodded to her husband, the picture on the screen changed to show an artist’s impression of three haggises, each larger than the other.

“As you can see,” Patricia Medford pointed to the picture of the domesticated Haggis, “the common farm Haggis is little different in size to a domesticated pig. Now this,” she pointed to the picture of the Wild Haggis, “is taken from the preserved Wild Haggis in Edinburgh Castle. As you can see it’s quite a lot bigger than its domesticated brother. How this,” Medford pointed to the picture of the third and finale Haggis, “is what we guesstimate the size of the Wild Haggises that appear to be wandering the glens around Inverlochty…”

The creature was almost the size of a small elephant, it had a long shaggy coat and long vicious looking tusks.

“…of course this is all guess work from only one footprint,” explained Medford, “we will need more evidence before we call in the Marines,” she smiled at the Brigadier.

“So you’re saying that these things pose a clear and present danger?” asked Kennedy.

“If they were to appear in any numbers,” acknowledged Medford, “they could easily over run the town. They’re fast breeders when there’s a plentiful food supply, Miss Scarpone, it would only be prudent to take the threat seriously.”

“Which is why I’m here,” explained Brigadier O’Brian, “the Min of Agg and Fish asked the MOD to send someone to assess the situation, so they sent Major Kibbee and myself. We need to kill or capture one of these things so we can gauge the level of threat and decide what our response will be.” The brigadier paused for a moment, “With that in mind I intend to go out on the hills tomorrow and find one of these creatures and either kill or capture it.”

“Miss Scarpone,” Harold Medford spoke from where he stood at the projector, “you’re still sceptical I see.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Kennedy spread her hands in a helpless gesture, “I’m finding all this very hard to believe.”

Demons and monsters, Kennedy could live with; Haggises, not so much.

“Make that two,” Willow put up her hand, “this is like finding out ‘Big Foot’,” which she knew for certain was a hoax, “is real or that the stories about the Loch Ness monster are true,” she paused for a moment, “come on now guys,” she pleaded, “you’ve got to admit this all sounds a bit silly.”

“Why?” asked Doctor Medford simply as he walked slowly towards his wife, “We may be witnesses to a Biblical prophecy come true,” he added as a faraway look passed over his face, “‘And there shall be destruction and darkness come upon creation and the beasts shall reign over the earth’.”

“Or not,” added his wife soberly.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Standing in the snow outside the ‘Bide a’ Wee’ hotel, Kennedy couldn’t help but reflect on how cute Willow looked in her cold weather gear. In point of fact you couldn’t see much of Willow herself, just her eyes, her cute red nose and a few strands of red hair that had escaped from under her brightly coloured woollen bobble hat. Sighing, Kennedy turned away, she knew she was only torturing herself, there was no way there could ever be a reconciliation between Willow and herself. The incident with the wannabe watcher, that could have been forgiven and in time forgotten. But messing with her mind like that; well, you had to draw the line somewhere and Willow had stepped over that line. Snapping out of her dark mood, Kennedy watched as Brigadier O’Brian and Major Kibbee climbed from their black and white camouflaged Land Rover. In contrast to Willow and her own bright red Gortex outfits the two marines wore white smocks and trousers over their normal camouflage uniforms. 

Over by the police Land Rover, Sergeant Peterson stood in his dark blue police cold weather gear; he had a pump action shotgun under his arm and a belt full of cartridges around his waist. The Medfords seemed to be the least well prepared wearing waxed cotton jackets, jeans and green Wellington boots. They carried cameras and other recording devices. Looking back at the two Marine officers, Kennedy saw them pull gear from the back of their Land Rover. They buckled on belts with pistol holsters before putting on odd waist-coat affairs almost entirely made up of pouches, no doubt containing the magazines for the weird space-age looking rifles they both carried. Looking from the Marine’s assault rifles and pistols to the policeman’s shotgun; Kennedy started to get a bad case of weapon envy.

“Damn it,” she muttered to herself as she walked over to her hire car.

Willow probably had a few nasty spells at her finger tips, the police and the marines had their guns, and what did Kennedy have? Well, she smiled to herself as she unlocked the boot of the car; she had her slayer strength, speed and agility. However, she’d still feel happier with a weapon in her hand. It only took her a moment to pick something out from the selection hidden in the boot.

0=0=0=0

“My dear Miss Scarpone,” O’Brian smiled at her when he saw what she’d got strapped across her back, “what do you intend to do with that?”

Kennedy touched the hilt of her sword over her right shoulder.

“Its insurance,” explained Kennedy, “it’s okay for you,” she sulked slightly, “you’ve got rifles and shotguns, but what with the stupid firearm’s laws in this country,” she cast Peterson a black look as if it was all his fault, “I can’t carry a gun. As far as I know there’s no law against swords.”

“Actually,” Peterson held up a finger as he made his point, “there is, but under the circumstances I’ll let it go.”

“Right then,” began O’Brian taking charge, “we’ll form a line and sweep towards the hills there,” he pointed to the mountains on the far side of the glen. “If you see any sign of these Haggises give a shout and Major Kibbee or myself will come running, alright? Any questions?”

“What sort of signs?” Willow asked, her teeth chattering with the cold even under all her layers of warm clothing; she was a true California girl and didn’t do well in Scotland’s freezing temperatures.

“Spoor,” replied Harold Medford, “foot prints, anything that might indicate that they’ve been feeding close by.”

“Spoor?” asked Willow miserably, she really wished she was somewhere warm and all the white was hurting her eyes.

“Crap,” explained Patricia Medford.

“Haggis crap?” Willow pulled a face.

“Well yes,” O’Brian grinned down at Willow, “now we’ve got that sorted out maybe we should start before Doctor Rosenberg freezes solid!”

With a few quiet laughs the little group of humans formed themselves into a line with about two yards between each other and started to walk towards the hills half a mile away.

0=0=0=0

Struggling through the snow, Willow huffed and puffed with the exertion of walking. The snow was up to her knees and she couldn’t feel her legs and the wind seemed to be doing its best to freeze her nose off and she was sure her tears would freeze her eyes solid any second. Stopping in the lee of a bank of windswept heather to catch her breath, Willow looked to her left and right. Noting how the line had stretched and how far it seemed to be to get back to the hotel and the vehicles Willow’s shoulders slumped a little. She wasn’t made for this sort of work, she’d never been exactly ‘sporty’, she’d always been more with the books than the ball. Maybe she could get Kennedy to help her toughen up a little…then she remembered. That would never happen because she’d screwed with her girlfriends mind and now she was leaving her.

With a mixture of self pity and self loathing, Willow turned to continue the search for the elusive Haggises; she’d only taken a step or two when she stopped again and cocked her head to listen. Risking losing an ear to the freezing temperatures (what was the point of having ears when there was no one to nibble them anyway?) Willow pulled her woolly hat away from her ear and pushed back her hair. Odd, she thought, who could be out here practising the bagpipes? Well, she smiled to herself, almost anyone who cared for their neighbours hearing that’s who. Pulling her hat back into place she clambered up the bank a little further before stopping to listen again. The bagpipe music had got louder, but it somehow sounded muffled. Casting a low power ‘Spot Hidden’ spell Willow was just starting to scan the snow in front of her when a snow mound slightly to her left started to move.

“What the…” Willow stood back in amazement as the mound of snow seemed to grow and grow until it appeared to shake itself to reveal the monster that had been hiding beneath it.

It was huge, almost eight feet from the tip of its snout to the end of its short tail, the Haggis glared at her with beady, bloodshot, piggy little eyes. Its hide was covered in long course black and brown hair, obviously a protection against the bitterly cold winds. It must have been nearly six feet tall at the shoulder and Willow could see its great muscles ripple under its hide as it turned to face her. The beast snorted hot breath through its trumpet shaped snout making a noise like someone tuning a set of bagpipes. Willow gave an answering squeak-like scream as she tried to back peddle away from the hideous monster. The creature’s brow seemed to furrow as it lowered its head to bring its long ivory tusks in line with Willow’s middle. Trying to scream for help, Willow turned to run, her foot caught in a heather root and she fell down the bank into the deep snow.

The Haggis shuffled forward unsure of where is prey had disappeared to, it snorted through its nose again making a noise like the opening few bars of the ‘Skye Boat Song’. This time Willow managed to scream properly, the Haggis hooted back at her and started to clamber down the bank towards her.

The mountain air was torn asunder by the sound of automatic rifle fire; the bullets hit the flank of the Haggis with a wet slapping noise. The Haggis hooted in pain and anger as it turned to face the new threat. Turning as she struggled to get clear of the highland horror, Willow could just make out the white shape of Brigadier O’Brian as he knelt in the snow to fire steadily into the flank of the haggis. Apart from making the haggis even more angry his fire seemed to have little effect.

0=0=0=0

Running towards the sound of the firing, Kennedy appeared to fly over the surface of the snow, her feet sending up little spurts of white as she ran; she could see Brigadier O’Brian firing at something just out of her line of sight. Over to her left she could hear Major Kibbee moving in to take whatever was threatening a member of the hunting party in the other flank. Hearing the scream for help, Kennedy realised who was in trouble. Coming up onto a small level area of heather, she could see the Haggis moving menacingly towards Willow as she lay struggling on the ground. With sharp, slayer clarity she could see the brigadier’s bullets strike the creature in the flank as its red blood stained the snow but otherwise had little visible effect.

“AIM FOR IS SNOUT!” the cry came faintly across the snow from Harold Medford, “YOU MUST STOP IT CALLING FOR HELP!”

Pulling her sword from its scabbard, Kennedy raised it in both hands above her head; she screamed an incoherent warcry as she flew across the snow towards the Haggis. She was aware that the firing had stopped and people were yelling at her to stay back. But, staying back wasn’t in a slayer’s nature; see monster slay same, however, was!

The Haggis turned just too late to face Kennedy’s attack; she brought her sword down in a blinding blur of movement to slice off the creature’s snout where it joined the monster’s face. It roared in pain spraying dark red blood across the snow as it tried to call for help. Recovering from her first attack, Kennedy drew back her arms to slash at the beast; but first she had to jump back as it tried to trip her with one of its tusks, no doubt before disembowelling her with the other.

As fast as a striking snake, Kennedy bounded back to the attack burying a good two feet of her sword blade into the monster’s shoulder. Again the Haggis screamed with pain as it tried to pull itself off the slayer’s blade. Yanking her sword free with a savage twist that rang yet another cry of agony from the rapidly weakening haggis; Kennedy stabbed again and again, driving her sword deeply into the bone and muscle of the haggis’ shoulders and neck. The creature screamed as it tried to stagger away from the thing that attacked it, the snow turned to red slush as its feet scrambled for traction in the slippery wet. Showing no mercy Kennedy struck again and again until with a final gasping sigh the haggis fell onto its side. It gave a couple of loud wheezing breaths before finally lying still in the blood stained snow.

“Well done that woman!” cried O’Brian as he ran up to where Kennedy stood over her victim, “I’d have never believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Ignoring the officer for the moment Kennedy turned to look for Willow, only to find her still caught up in the heather roots.

“Thank-you, thank-you,” gasped Willow as she hung onto Kennedy, “I was so scared I couldn’t get my magic to work.”

“Hey, never mind,” Kennedy smiled into Willow’s hair, she’d lost her hat somewhere, “I’d always come to rescue you…whatever might have happened I’d always try.”

“My god!” Patricia Medford was standing over the body as her husband was busily taking pictures, “Look at the size of it! I never thought they grew this big.”

“Yes,” agreed the brigadier, “and the bloody thing appears to be bullet proof!”

“What?” asked Patricia Medford in surprise, “You mean you didn’t shoot it?”

“No,” the brigadier shook his head, “this is all Miss Scarpone’s work, her and that sword of hers.”

“Sir,” Major Kibbee had walked up and was examining the Haggis’ body, “it could just be a matter of stopping power. These 5.56mm bullets aren’t exactly designed for this type of work.”

“Yes, yes,” nodded the brigadier thoughtfully, “I see what you mean.”

By now Kennedy had helped Willow up to where the Haggis lay; still a little out of breath she looked down at the great beast.

“Golly!” gasped Willow as she looked at her ex-lover in admiration, “You certainly did a number of that!”

As her eyes took in the full horror of the beast something seemed to be tugging at Willow’s mind. It took her a moment to realise that she still had the ‘Spot Hidden’ spell running. Looking up she surveyed the valley floor with growing horror.

“Like, hey guys,” she pointed towards the valley wall, “um…like let’s run!”

Looking up from the body, the party followed Willow terrified stare. The glen appeared to have become alive with huge dark shapes that moved purposefully towards the little band of humans.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed the Brigadier.

“I think yon lassie is right,” Sergeant Peterson clasped his shotgun, “let’s get the hell out-tae here!”

Turning as one they started to run for the vehicles parked by the deserted hotel. It seemed inconceivable, to Willow, that they’d make it in time; she felt like her lungs were going to burst as her feet stumbled from one lump of snow covered heather to another. Just as she felt she couldn’t run another inch, she felt a strong arm wrap itself around her and lift her almost off her feet.

“Buffy would never forgive me,” Kennedy whispered into her ear, “if I let you get eaten!”

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Looking out of her hotel room window, Willow watched as Royal Marines patrolled the silent streets in their open top Land Rovers. For a moment she worried that they’d all catch cold or something. It was almost freezing and as she’d already noted the Land Rovers had no roofs. After her little mishap with the (almost) Willow eating Haggis the previous afternoon, they’d run for their lives back to the vehicles and escaped by the skin of their teeth. Kennedy had had to leave the hire car behind; Willow hoped the Haggises wouldn’t wreck it. They’d all made their escape aboard the brigadier’s Land Rover.

When they’d got back to the police station, Kennedy had sent her back to their hotel to rest. Willow turned to look at the unoccupied bed next to her own; obviously Kennedy hadn’t come home last night. No doubt she’d been doing something useful back at the police station. Willow was feeling particularly sorry for herself and useless, she’d grown to like being relied on for magic and stuff. It had come as a shock that people seemed to be able to get along without her. Slumping down on her bed she pouted like a five year old, after a minute or two she sat up straight and started to think of ways to redeem herself. You never know, she told herself, if she did a good job Kennedy might forgive her and not leave. Tara had forgiven her (and just look what had happened to her), Willow’s shoulders slumped again. There had to be something she could do, after all wasn’t she a way powerful witch?

0=0=0=0

Brigadier O’Brian frowned as he turned away from the window, the weather was closing in again, snow was already starting to fall and more was forecast for later that day. He still had no idea where these damn Haggis creatures were hiding and what was worse, someone had sent a man from the Ministry of Agg and Fish to oversee the entire operation. On the good side, he’d managed to get all of Four-Two Commando in and deployed around Inverlochty before the weather had closed down the helicopter flights and blocked the roads. They were basically by themselves now, which was good (no political interference), it could also be bad if things went pear-shaped.

Looking around at what had become his ‘Advisory Group’, O’Brian smiled; there were the Doctors Medford, Sergeant Peterson and the American woman, Miss Scarpone. Major Kibbee was running ‘interference’ keeping both the police Inspector and the Man from the Ministry occupied and out of his hair. The brigadier walked back to the table where a large scale map of the area had been laid out.

“Has anyone any idea where these creatures could be hiding?” he asked with a tired sigh.

“Well,” began Harold Medford slowly, “they usually like high places but out of the direct wind and weather; something like a tarn or amongst some crags or something.”

“Anywhere like that, Sergeant?” the brigadier asked the policeman.

“Aye,” the sergeant rubbed his chin as he studied the map, “there’s a tarn up on Ben Ochty above the town. That’s where they’re building the new hydro-electric plant; I suppose they could be there.”

“Little too close to human habitation,” pointed out Patricia Medford.

“So, really we’ve no idea,” O’Brian shook his head.

With all the helicopters grounded there was no chance of air recon and he didn’t like the idea of sending men out on skies blindly hoping they’d find something. He heard the door to the room they were using open and shut, he looked up to see Doctor Rosenberg come in with a tray of steaming tea mugs and a plate full of doughnuts, she at least looked cheerful.

“Hi guys!” Willow chirped as she placed the tray on the table, “I bring tea and sticky, sugary goodness, when I was at school I found a big intake of sugar helped with the mental processes.”

Everyone smiled and helped themselves to the tea and doughnuts.

“So, what’s the sitch?” Willow blew on her tea before sipping.

“We’ve lost the Haggises, Dr Rosenberg,” Patricia Medford pointed out.

“Yes,” agreed O’Brian, “with the weather closing in we’ve nothing flying and I’m reluctant to send men out to search blindly.”

“Oh, I see,” Willow thought for a moment, a simple ‘Locator’ spell would do the trick; but how to cast it without letting everyone see, she caught Kennedy’s eye.

“I might be able to help,” Willow said slowly.

“How so?” replied O’Brian who at this point would try anything, if the American woman suggested witchcraft he’d go along with it!

“There’s a mathematical method,” explained Willow making it up as she went along, “we use to help predict the movements of robbers and such. You never know it might work with the Haggises.”

“I’ll try anything once,” O’Brian informed the room, “what do you need?”

“Umm,” Willow thought quickly, she had to make this sound reasonable, “I’ll need stuff like…”

“All confirmed reports of Haggis sightings,” Kennedy jumped in realising that Willow, never too good with the ‘lies’, was foundering, “isn’t that right Doctor Rosenberg?”

“Yes!” Willow’s confidence having been boasted she got into the spirit of things, “anything on which way they were heading, time of day,” Willow thought rapidly what else would she want if this was real? “Oh, and a map and an office to work in.”

0=0=0=0

Several minutes later, the two young women were hidden away in the Inspector’s office; Kennedy was busily marking the map with the locations of all the Haggis sightings and the creature’s direction of travel. Willow studied the dots and arrows Kennedy was drawing on the map; they might actually help with the spell, it couldn’t hurt. Plus it would look more convincing if she had to show the map to anyone.

“So,” Kennedy stood up having marked the last know Haggis sighting, there were depressingly few, “what are you going to do, a little hocus-pocus huh?”

Kennedy could never quite bring herself to truly believe in magic, okay, she’d seen Willow do some really amazing stuff. But she still didn’t fully ‘believe’ not deep down where it counted. Her brain still kept telling her that it was some clever trick or like special effects in a movie.

“Simple location spell,” Willow informed her soon to be ex-girlfriend, “should give a rough area to work with if nothing else.”

“Do you need anything else,” Kennedy wanted to know, “eye of newt or something?”

“No,” Willow frowned, I’ll give you eye of newt, she thought, or maybe I’ll just mess with your mind and drive you away. “No, no,” now she was feeling all sad again at the thought of Kennedy leaving her; got to concentrate she told herself, “just a quick chant and I’ll be done.”

Watching as Willow chanted Kennedy saw the lines she’d drawn on the map swirl and start to move towards a point on the map just above the town. When Willow stopped chanting the pencil marks went back to their original location; Kennedy marked the spot where they’d all joined together with a big red circle.

“Well?” Willow asked looking at the map, “Did it work?”

“According to you,” Kennedy glanced at Willow, that had been a neat trick, “they’ve got their nest or whatever up here on,” Kennedy screwed up her eyes to read the small print on the map, “Ben Ochty? Everything seemed to centre on this little lake thing.” 

Kennedy tapped the map with her finger.

“Okay,” sighed Willow, “lets go tell everyone.”

0=0=0=0

The news that the Haggises were camped out on top of Ben Ochty wasn’t greeted with the sort of acclaim that Willow had hoped for. The Doctors Medford pointed out once again that it was too close to human habitation. The brigadier, while not exactly pooh-poohing the idea was still unwilling to send men out without better intelligence. Kennedy found herself defending Willow’s ‘theory’ asking if anyone had a better idea. In the silence that followed her rather forceful interjection there was a quiet knock on the door and Constable McHenry poked her head into the room.

“I think there’s something you need to hear,” she slipped into the room closing the door behind her. “Early this morning, before the weather got really bad, a Mr Cameron took his children up the mountain to go sledging. Mrs Cameron phoned in to say they’ve not come back.”

“How long have they been gone?” Peterson wanted to know.

“Its about three hours now,” explained McHenry, “Mrs Cameron says her husband was only going to be an hour, he had work to do but he wanted to take the kids out first.”

“I’ve an awful feeling I know the answer to this, Constable,” the brigadier looked worried, “where were they going?”

“Up Ben Ochty,” replied McHenry, “somewhere near the hydro-electric plant.”

“Right!” O’Brian snatched up a field telephone that’d been put in to give him a direct line to the Commando’s headquarters in the church hall down the street. “I’ll get some men together and we’ll get up there.”

0=0=0=0

The motor of the little snow cat vehicle the marines used roared as it started to climb up the track towards the summit of Ben Ochty. Willow, Kennedy, Brigadier O’Brian and three marines who carried rifles and radios were all crammed into the back of the tracked trailer being pulled up the mountain by the tractor unit. In front and behind them were more tractor-trailer units full of marines making their way along the construction site track leading to the half built hydro-electric plant. The brigadier picked up and checked his own rifle.

“That’s a different type weapon, isn’t it?” Kennedy asked once again feeling the pangs of weapon envy.

“Yes,” agreed O’Brian slipping a big magazine into the housing in front of the rifle’s pistol grip, “the 5.56mm ammunition we use nowadays doesn’t have the stopping power of the old 7.62, I had them get some old SLR’s…”

“SLR’s?” frowned Kennedy.

“Self Loading Rifles,” explained O’Brian, Kennedy nodded her understanding. “Anyway, I had them taken out of storage and reissued to the chaps. This time if we bump into any of these Haggis chappys we’ll be able to stop them cold!”

“I hope you’re right,” Willow chimed in, she didn’t like guns; a man with a gun had killed Tara and nearly killed Buffy.

“Oh don’t worry about that, Dr Rosenberg,” O’Brian smiled in a knowing way, “I’ve seen a bullet from one of these,” he patted the rifle, “take down an African bull elephant.”

“Oooh!” Willow whimpered, “Poor Dumbo!”

“Never mind,” Kennedy patted Willow on the knee and then remembered she was supposed to be leaving her lover and withdrew her hand, “I expect it had to be done, didn’t it Brigadier?”

“What?” O’Brian turned from looking out of the window of the trailer, “Oh! Yes; it was a cull by South African game wardens, all legal and above board. I’d like to tell you more but I think we’ve arrived.”

0=0=0=0

Climbing out of the back of the trailer, Willow was almost blown off her feet by a gust of freezing wind. Clutching at the trailer’s door to steady herself she saved herself from sliding all the way to the foot of the mountain. While she struggled to keep her footing, dozens of white camouflaged marines ran here and there in seeming chaos. Then, it seemed to Willow, that someone cast a spell and everyone disappeared into the snow. Where, moments before there were men everywhere, now she couldn’t see one! Turning in growing panic she was relieved to see the Brigadier, the Medfords, Sergeant Peterson, Kennedy and several marines in a huddle behind one of trailers. Willow walked stiff legged over to join the group.

“Glad you could join us, Dr Rosenberg,” O’Brian smiled down at Willow before turning to speak to one of his marines. “John, I want your chaps to spread out and start searching for these children and their father, okay?”

“Right away, sir,” ‘John’ nodded to the brigadier and turned to run off shouting orders to his invisible men.

Willow watched as lumps of snow turned into marines and started to move around the hillside searching for the missing children.

“I don’t like it,” Harold Medford said quietly, “the chances of finding anyone alive...” his voice faded away as he shook his head sadly.

“I know doctor,” O’Brian signalled some more marines over, “but we have to look. What I suggest we do is that we search the construction site,” he pointed over to the half built abandoned buildings. “Keep an ear out for Haggises and watch you don’t get trapped by the bounders.”

0=0=0=0

Finding herself automatically paired off with Kennedy, Willow walked through the jumble of half built pipes and buildings; she didn’t really know what she was looking for, what were ‘signs of Haggises’ anyway? Until a day ago she’d thought that a Haggis was a traditional dish made from sheep. Now she knew they could be ravenous, hooting monsters that ate sheep and (Willow gulped mentally) people. Miserably she considered casting a Haggis finding spell, she stopped for a moment to think; were there any Haggis finding spells? If there were she didn’t know them; just as she was thinking about using a general life force locating spell, Willow found her feet entangled in what she thought were dry branches. Looking down she found herself standing amongst a pile of bones.

“Oh my!” she gasped as she bent to examine her find.

Willow was inside a half built concrete shed or hut, the walls stood about eight feet high put the roof was open to the sky and the floor was just frozen earth. The bones were covered in a light dusting of snow which she brushed away with her hand. Memories of long ago biology lessons fought their way to the forefront of her mind as she recognised some of the bones as being human.

“GUYS!” she called urgently, “HEY GUYS, I’ve found something.”

Sighing with relief at the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow, Willow turned to see Kennedy standing in the doorway sword in hand. No one would give her a gun but no one appeared to want to tell her she couldn’t carry her sword, so there she was standing like a heavily bundled up ancient Highland warrior.

“What’s up?” Kennedy asked.

“Found these bones,” Willow pointed to the litter at her feet.

“Crap,” cursed Kennedy just as the Medfords turned up.

0=0=0=0

“Well,” sighed Harold Medford as he spoke to O’Brian, “at least the children’s remains weren’t amongst the bones we found.”

“Thank god for that,” mused the brigadier, “what have we got?”

“I’m no expert, you understand,” explained Medford, “but there’s pieces of three different human skulls, some of the other bones I recognise as human. The rest all seem to be sheep bones.”

“Humm,” O’Brian rubbed his chin with a gloved hand, “unfortunately I still doesn’t tell were these creatures are nesting or whatever you call it.”

“Oh, they’ll be near by,” Medford scanned the snow covered crags for a moment, “you can count on that.”

0=0=0=0

“Willow?” Kennedy walked over to stand next to Willow, “I can feel something like an annoying little sister at the back of my mind trying to get my attention.”

“That’ll be your ‘spider sense’ trying to tell you something,” Willow grinned.

“Well, duh!” Kennedy turned a full three-hundred and sixty degrees looking for the source of her unease, “I’d sorta worked that out. Can’t you work the mojo to find these things?”

“Oh yeah,” sulked Willow, “fine to use the magics when _you_ want something…this is so unfair!”

“Hey,” Kennedy caught hold of Willow’s arm and turned her to face her, “I’m just suggesting, right?”

“Oh…” Willow was just about to utter a snappy come back when the sound of bagpipes came to her ears, “Hey?” she asked, “What’s that?”

0=0=0=0


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Staring out of the police station window, Janet McHenry watched as the snow fell in great white lumps from a leaden sky. Knowing that it would be worse on top of Ben Ochy were the man of her fevered dreams was now, didn’t make her feel any better. The link between Sergeant Peterson and herself let her feel what he was feeling and sometimes see what he was seeing.

Being a Matchmaker Nymph for the ancient god Sheela-na-Gig allowed Janet to form close bonds between couples; to see if they were suited for each other and even give reluctant couples a little ‘push’ so the could form close and rewarding relationships. However, it was part of the rules under which she worked that she couldn’t use her powers to benefit herself. Which was why her heart was breaking, Sergeant Peterson didn’t seem to notice her in any way other than a work colleague. The connection was so strong between them she couldn’t understand how he could resist. Somehow she would find a way of making him ‘see’ her…if, that is, he survived the next twenty-four hours.

0=0=0=0

“What’s what?” Kennedy pulled her woolly hat from over her ears so she could hear more clearly.

Sure enough the discordant sounds of bagpipes came to her through the increasingly heavy snow fall. The sound seemed to come from the direction of some huge pipes she had noticed early. The pipes had been at least twelve feet across and were sunk into the side of the mountain; she’d looked into them as she’d passed by. The darkness was so thick it looked as if the pipes led straight down to hell.

“Come on,” Kennedy pulled on Willow’s arm, “we better get back to the others.”

On rejoining the little group by the half built building, it was decided to head back to where the vehicles had been left; there was no sign of Mr Cameron and his two children. Once they reached the snow cats, John, the officer in direct command of the marines who were searching the construction sight, trotted over to the Brigadier…he held a sledge in his hand.

0=0=0=0

“This is what I think happened,” Brigadier O’Brian held his meeting in a hut used by the workmen on the sight for their tea-breaks. “Cameron was out sledging with his kids when the Haggises attacked.”

Blood had been found in the snow near to where the sledge had been abandoned.

“He tried to fight them off but was dragged off somewhere,” the Brigadier paused to let that piece of information sink in, “the children, terrified by this time of course, ran and hid…”

“And where do you think they went?” Sergeant Peterson asked already suspecting the answer to his question.

“The evidence would suggest that they ran into the tunnels,” the Brigadier sighed and shook his head sadly.

“If they did,” this was from Harold Medford, “there’s no hope for them. I walked by the tunnel entrances earlier on…I smelt a distinct Tatties and Neeps odour coming from the tunnels.” He turned to look at Willow, “My apologies, Dr Rosenberg it appears you were right after all. The haggises have their nest in the pipes of the hydro-electric plant. If the children are down there,” Medford sighed sadly, “it’s doubtful they’re still alive.”

“Maybe you’d like to tell Mrs Cameron that,” Kennedy said quietly and without anger, “she’s out in one of the snow-cats.”

“Miss Scarpone is right,” Brigadier O’Brian spoke once more, “we must assume that the children are alive and we’ll have to go in there and find them.”

“Aye,” agreed Sergeant Peterson firmly, “not only is it our duty, but it’s the right thing to do.”

“Here-here Sergeant,” applauded the Brigadier, “I’ve more men on the way they should be here in less than a quarter of an hour. One piece of good luck, the construction lights are still down there and connected up to a generator. We’ll have plenty of light when we go in.”

The meeting broke up and split into little groups as the Brigadier went over the plans of the plant with his officers and advisers. Not having anything to contribute, Willow and Kennedy wandered outside and stood in the snow. Looking up at the sky they saw a patch of blue break through the leaden grey of the clouds.

“The goddess must be smiling on us,” Willow looked up at the patch of blue and grinned, “its stopped snowing.”

“Pity she couldn’t have managed that earlier,” as Kennedy spoke her breath steamed in the freezing air, “and it won’t do us much good once we’re underground.”

“You’ll be going into the tunnels then?” Willow wanted to know.

“Of course,” Kennedy nodded her head, the bobble on her hat nodding with the movement, “like Sergeant Peterson said it’s our duty and the right thing to do.”

“You don’t have to go, you know?” Willow pointed out, “This isn’t really mystical, officially its nothing to do with us it’s a purely natural problem.”

“When did we start to bother about fine points like that?” Kennedy looked out over the snow covered mountainside and wondered if it would be any good for skiing.

“Since never,” Willow smiled sadly, “I was just saying is all…and…and I just wanted to say, be careful, okay?” Willow took a deep breath, “And I wanted to say sorry about the whole party thing, I was incredibly stupid and I should never have messed with your memories and I’m so, so sorry…”

Breaking down, Willow buried her face in her hands and started to sob. Standing only two feet away, Kennedy felt her heart start to break; she stepped forward and placed her arms around Willow’s shaking body.

“I know you’re sorry,” Kennedy told Willow gently, “but ‘sorry’ doesn’t fix it this time.”

Willow looked up at her girlfriend and opened her mouth to speak; Kennedy continued talking not giving Willow a chance to say anything.

“Nothing you can say will ever be enough to make up for what you did,” Kennedy told her sadly, “I’d never know for sure if you’d played with my mind to make be forgive you and…believe me I want to forgive you. But I can’t, how do I know that its really my feelings?”

“But…” Willow started to speak but stopped herself; deep down in her soul she knew Kennedy was right.

It was all over, what they’d had was gone in a swamp of mistrust and it was all her fault.

“You’re right of course,” Willow sniffed and wiped her eyes before the tears froze, “I quite understand, in your place I’d probably feel the same.”

The two young women stepped away from each other.

“So,” Willow took a deep breath, she tried to smile bravely, “you’ll be going in with the troops.”

“Yep,” Kennedy nodded emphatically.

“So,” Willow started to brush snow of Kennedy’s shoulders and straightened her hat and scarf, “you be careful in there and don’t get, like, eaten or anything, okay?”

“I won’t,” just at that moment Kennedy wanted to take Willow in her arms and kiss her and forgive her and love her and…instead she just stood there and watched her lover’s life collapse around her.

“Good luck then,” Willow held out her mitten clad hand.

“Thanks,” Kennedy took the offered hand and shook it firmly then let her hand drop to her side.

For a moment they stood staring into each other’s eyes and then by some unspoken agreement they turned and walked away from each other.

0=0=0=0

“Everything all right?” asked Brigadier O’Brian as he climbed into the back of the snow-cat where Kennedy had taken refuge.

“Yes,” she wiped at her eyes and forced a smile, “the cold’s making by eyes water.”

“Of course it is,” replied the Brigadier quietly, he cleared his throat and looked away giving Kennedy time to compose herself, “you’ll be coming into the tunnels with us I expect.”

“Of course,” Kennedy spoke as if the idea that she wouldn’t was unthinkable.

“I thought as much,” the Brigadier smiled knowingly, “you look like that sort of girl.”

“What sort of girl is that, Brigadier?” Kennedy asked offhandedly.

“Oh I don’t know,” the Brigadier let out a long breath, “the sort of girl who’d put her life on the line for a complete stranger. The sort of girl who’s no stranger to danger…that sort of girl, am I right?”

“Yes,” Kennedy nodded her head slowly and wondered just how much this guy knew, “I suppose I am.”

“Well in that case,” the Brigadier reached under the seat, “you’ll be wanting this.”

0=0=0=0

Copying the way the marines held their rifles, Kennedy stood a little way back from where Brigadier O’Brian was talking to Major Kibbee, the officer called ‘John’ and another young officer she’d not caught the name of. The Brigadier had given her the rifle while they’d been in the back of the snow-cat together; he’d said that she might as well have it as he could see he’d not be able to stop her following the marines into the tunnels. So, he’d announced, she might as well carry something that’d take down a Haggis without having to get too close to it.

The rifle looked huge on her as she held it loosely across her body; oddly the Brigadier hadn’t asked if she knew how to use it. He’d just given it to her and told her where she could find loaded magazines to go with it. This made Kennedy think, maybe he did he know about slayers? Did he suspect she was a slayer? Thinking back to what the man had said to her in the snow-cat perhaps he did, perhaps she should talk to Mr Giles about the Brigadier when she got back to Saltburn-by-the-Sea. Before she headed south to London and left Willow behind forever. Feeling her eyes start to burn with tears again, she took a deep breath, banished thoughts of betrayal from her mind and concentrated instead on what the Brigadier and the Major were talking about.

“We’ve got ‘B’ Company deployed around the objective,” Major Kibbee pointed out positions on a map to the Brigadier, “there’s at least a rifle section covering every exit and one platoon in reserve just in case they tunnel out anywhere else.”

“The Haggis isn’t a tunneller,” observed Patricia Medford, “I doubt they’ve made any more escape routes.”

“Best to be on the safe side, Dr Medford,” the Brigadier smiled at the lady doctor, “I wouldn’t want the things popping up behind me.”

“You’re going in, sir?” Major Kibbee obviously didn’t like the idea of his boss going into the dark, haggis infested tunnels.

“Of course George,” the brigadier gave his aide a boyish grin, “you didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”

“No sir,” the major gave a resigned chuckle, “I suppose not.”

“Right, now that’s settled, was there anything else?” Brigadier O’Brian looked around at the waiting marines his eyes fell on Kennedy, “Ah, Miss Scapone,” Kennedy straightened up, there was something in O’Brian’s voice that made you want to stand at attention, “I was wondering whether Sergeant Peterson and yourself would care to join my command group for this little exercise?”

“Yes, thanks I will,” Kennedy stepped forward to join the brigadier; the guy was talking as if he was going on a stroll in the park instead of into Haggis Hell, “thanks.”

“Dr Rosenberg not coming?” O’Brian asked as Kennedy joined him.

“No,” Kennedy shook her head, “she’s staying with the Doctors Medford for this one…she’s not very action orientated.”

“I see,” O’Brian agreed, “well if everybody’s ready?” There were answering nods and ‘Yes Sirs’ from all around, “Good, shall we get started?” The Brigadier nodded to the officer called John.

“MAKE READY!” cried John ordering his men to load their rifles, Kennedy did the same while by her side Sergeant Peterson jacked a round into the breach of his shotgun. “ADVANCE!”

Moving at a purposeful walk the scout section disappeared into the tunnel mouth, moments later the ‘support section’ followed them. Next it was the turn of the Brigadier and his command group followed by the rearguard.

The soft shuffle of rubber soled boots echoed along the concrete tunnels preventing Kennedy from really being able to hear very much. However, you didn’t need slayer hearing to hear the sound of discordant bagpipes coming from deep inside the mountain. The noise had started moments after she’d walked into the tunnel; obviously the haggis had detected their presence some how.

“Smell that?” Sergeant Peterson whispered from beside Kennedy, she nodded ‘yes’, “Tatties and Neeps,” explained the policeman, “what the Medford’s call ‘Brood Odour’. 

“Why do they smell like that?” Kennedy asked.

“No idea,” shrugged Peterson, “all I now is that whenever I smell it I start to feel hungry!”

Before, Kennedy could reply with a witty come back a section of wall collapsed and to the sound of ‘Scotland the Brave’ what seemed like a horde of Haggises clambered out of the hole and fell upon the marines in the tunnel.

0=0=0=0

Standing at the mouth of the tunnel, Willow listened to the sounds of heavy firing echoing from the mountain with increasing alarm. Why had she let Kennedy go in there by herself? Okay she’d not gone in ‘by herself’ exactly; over fifty heavily armed Royal Marines hardly counted as ‘by herself’. But, Willow couldn’t help feeling she should be in there sharing the danger. Several muffled bangs made her jump as the firing increased in volume. Walking forward, Willow went to follow the marines into the tunnel but was stopped by a marine who’d been left to guard the entrance. There were probably others around somewhere but Willow was damned if she could see them.

“Sorry, Miss, you can’t go in,” the marine held up his hand to bring Willow to a halt, “Brigadier’s orders.”

Coming to a halt, Willow looked at the young man in his white camouflaged smock and trousers. Sighing in frustration she was about to turn away when the thought hit her; she could easily get into the tunnel if she really wanted to. All she had to do was mess with the guys mind and he’d let her go. After all, she’d messed with the mind of her lover so a nameless young ‘soldier-boy’ wouldn’t make any difference.

“But the Brigadier wants me to join him,” Willow watched as the young marine’s eyes glazed over as her spell took effect.

“Sorry, Miss,” the marine relaxed and dropped his hand, “I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Willow smiled at the guy as she walked by, “I expect he forgot to mention it.”

Walking onward Willow soon found herself in the tunnel, pausing she listened, the sound of firing had stopped. Good, she nodded to herself, all the noise was making it hard for her to concentrate. Now she was by herself she could use her magic without worrying any one would see her. With blue magical lightning crackling all around her, Willow advanced into the dark mountain.

0=0=0=0


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Slipping the empty magazine from her rifle, Kennedy took a full one from the pocket of her jacket and slapped it into the magazine housing. Stepping over the outstretched leg of a dead haggis she made her way over towards the Brigadier and Major Kibbee. Standing next to the senior officer, she watched as the covered body of a dead marine was carried towards the exit, two other marines had been badly gored and were being helped away by their comrades.

“Brigadier?” Kennedy had waited until O’Brian had finished talking on the radio before attracting his attention. “Correct me if I’m wrong but,” Kennedy took a deep breath, “the only real reason we’re down here is those kids right?”

“Yes,” O’Brian turned to look down at Kennedy, “what of it?”

“Well I was thinking,” Kennedy fiddled with her rifle like a naughty schoolgirl who was just about to suggest something _really_ bad, “you could seal this place up tight and just gas the bastards if it wasn’t for those kids.”

“What are you suggesting, Miss Scapone?” O’Brian frowned down at Kennedy.

“Why don’t you get your guys out of here,” suggested Kennedy, “I’ll look for the kids and get them out.”

“Ah,” O’Brian rubbed his chin with his hand as he eyed Kennedy, “you think you’d have more luck than nearly a full company of Royal Marines?”

“It’s not so much that,” Kennedy didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, “but one person working alone might get through and after all it is sorta my job.”

“Hmm,” the Brigadier regarded Kennedy with a steely eye, “your job as a criminologist from UCLA you mean?”

“That’s right,” Kennedy smiled brightly, “we _criminologists_ have been trained for this sort of thing, you could say we were born to it.”

“I see,” O’Brian said slowly as he looked up and down the brightly lit tunnel. 

O’Brian wasn’t stupid, he knew a slayer when he saw one; his older brother had gone straight from university into the Watchers Council, although it’d taken many years for O’Brian to find out exactly what his brother did for a living. As the years had pasted he’d found himself being slowly drawn into the world of the strange and un-natural. However, this was the first time he’d ever met an actual slayer.

“Alright, you’ve got an hour,” O’Brian told Kennedy briskly, “if you’re not out by then; either with or without the children, I’m coming back in after you, understand?”

Nodding her head Kennedy understood.

“Here,” the brigadier took off his combat harness and handed it to Kennedy, “spare ammunition, grenades and a few other things you might find useful.”

Slipping the harness over her shoulders Kennedy found it was much to large for her, she started to tighten all the adjustment straps as far as they would go and found it was still too big. Fastening it up as best she could, she watched as O’Brian called his men back and sent them towards the surface. He told his officers that he was going to call in more troops before continuing further. As the last marine walked off towards the entrance, O’Brian held out his hand to Kennedy.

“Its good luck then, I suppose?” he asked.

“Luck is for losers,” Kennedy grinned back and shook the man’s outstretched hand.

“Right,” sighed O’Brian as he gave her a resigned smile, “don’t stay out too late and don’t get mixed up with any boys, okay?”

“Boys?” Kennedy grinned, “Never, no way!”

“Right-ho,” O’Brian turned away reluctantly, “I’ll be on my way then,” he walked a couple of yards before turning to say something, “You slay them, Miss Scarpone. You slay them good and proper and bring those kids back.”

“Will-do!” Kennedy sketched a salute and watched as O’Brian disappeared into the distance.

Standing in the tunnel by herself, Kennedy smiled and tried to think positive thoughts, she’d never really liked closed in spaces. It didn’t make her want to run screaming for the open air, it just made her feel uncomfortable. Plus the thought of sharing the tunnels (which had a mountain on top of them) with an unknown number of angry beasties didn’t help her claustrophobia one little bit.

“The things you get yourself into,” Kennedy told herself as she started to walk further into the mountain. “Oh-well,” she sighed, “you’ve only yourself to blame.” She thought about this for a moment, “Actually,” she told herself, “this is all Willow’s fault, if she hadn’t cast that spell I’d be dead by now and not down here half way to hell! Now there’s a pleasant thought,” she told herself.

However, as she walked she couldn’t help wishing that Willow was here with her. Willow would be nervous, then she could be all brave and supportive and not notice her own feelings of impending doom.

0=0=0=0

Making herself as small as she could, Willow crouched into the little recess and waited for the marines to pass by. From her hiding place, she could see the marines walk towards the entrance while they couldn’t see her due to the minor spell she’d used. When the last man had gone by, she stepped out into the tunnel again and looked both ways. Kennedy hadn’t been with them, she’d looked most carefully. Walking briskly along the tunnel, Willow knew what must have happened. Either, somehow Kennedy had convinced the marines to turn back and leave her alone in the tunnel, or she’d sneaked off by herself. Willow shook her head and tutted.

“Typical slayer,” she muttered to herself.

0=0=0=0

“Evening all.”

Nearly jumping out of her skin at the sound of the soft Scottish voice behind her, Kennedy turned to confront Sergeant Peterson.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” she snapped.

“I could ask you the same question,” replied the police sergeant with a slow smile.

“It’s my job,” Kennedy shot back only afterwards thinking that it wasn’t a very good answer, she compounded her mistake by trying to explain. “I’ve trained for this type of thing,” she added rather lamely.

“So,” Peterson smirked as he rested his shotgun on his shoulder, “this is what they teach you in America, what are you, Supergirl?”

“Yes!” Kennedy hissed then changed her mind, “No!” Slumping against the tunnel wall she sighed, “Look, I’ve got one hour to find those kids…if you’re coming come if not leave me alone.”

“Och,” chuckled Peterson, “I’m coming, alright; I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

0=0=0=0

They’d walked the tunnels for what felt like hours, but was really only about forty-five minutes. They’d not come across anymore haggises, but every now and again they’d smelt the so-called ‘brood-odour’ of tatties and neeps wafting down a tunnel. They’d always turned to avoid bumping into any haggises, but now time was marching on and they needed to find the children and get out.

“Here!” Kennedy stopped and held up her hand, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Peterson came to a halt and listened.

“That!” Kennedy could hear the sound of earth being moved along with the occasional wailing noise like someone stepping on a cat.

“Sounds like haggises to me, this way,” Peterson pointed down a side tunnel as he brought his shotgun up to the ready position.

“Let’s go,” whispered Kennedy as she started to creep down the tunnel, rifle held out in front of her.

Sneaking along the tunnel the sounds of digging were joined by the more ominous sounds of timbers creaking and groaning; Kennedy’s claustrophobia went up a notch as she imagined the mountain falling in on top of her. Her thoughts of being buried alive were interrupted by what sounded like the opening bars of the tune ‘Blue Bonnets’*. Turning, Kennedy’s eyes searched for where the sound was coming from, they settled on a hole high up in the tunnel wall.

“Sounds like its coming from through there,” Kennedy walked over to stand under the hole, she rested her rifle against the tunnel wall, “Give me a boast up.”

Standing on Peterson’s shoulders, Kennedy held on to the edge of the hole. Through it she could just see two terrified children huddled in the corner of the chamber beyond. Between her and the children were piles of building materials, loose earth and stone. The haggises were trying to remove the obstacles and get to the kids. Kennedy decided she needed to do something fast.

“Coming down!” she called as she jumped from Peterson’s shoulders.

“What d’you see?” asked the policeman rubbing his shoulders where Kennedy’s boots had rested.

“Look,” Kennedy spoke quickly, “the kids are in there but so are a whole bunch of haggises,” she paused to think for a second. “Look the tunnel up there is too narrow for you; I’ll go through, get the kids out and pass them through.” 

Stripping off the combat harness O’Brian had given her she checked her pockets for spare magazines. Dumping the contents of her breast pockets Kennedy kept the two spares in her hip pockets and checked the magazine on her rifle. Deciding that she was as ready as she’d ever be, she asked Peterson to boast her up towards the hole again. Pushing her rifle in ahead of her, Kennedy ignored Peterson grunts of pain as she put her foot on his head and clambered into the hole.

The little service tunnel was a snug fit and only just fitted her hips, she pushed herself along with her rifle out in front of her until she came to the other end. Looking into the chamber she saw six or eight haggises, they were now hooting excitedly as they got closer and closer to the children who hugged each other as they cowered in their hiding place.

Sticking her head out of the tunnel, Kennedy noticed a pile of loose earth just under where her tunnel came out. With a grunt she pushed herself out of the tunnel mouth and did a forward roll down onto the earth below. Rolling to her feet, Kennedy brought her rifle up to her shoulder and fired twice into the back of the closest haggis. The creature squealed spraying blood from its trumpet like nose before slumping down dead onto the ground. Suddenly, Kennedy found herself the centre of the world for half a dozen very angry haggises.

Working along the wall of the chamber, Kennedy paused to send another two rounds into the most dangerous looking haggis, it collapsed on the ground as its red, angry eyes went dim and its fellows sent up a terrific hooting like a thousand pipe bands tuning up for a mega-parade. Almost deafened, Kennedy found herself over by the children.

“COME-ON, KIDS!” she yelled over the sound of the discordant hooting, “I’VE COME TO GET YOU OUT…FOLLOW ME!”

Herding the children ahead of her, Kennedy once again paused to fire. This time she kept firing until the magazine in her rifle was empty. Six of the remaining haggises fell to the ground dead. As she swapped magazines, Kennedy saw the bodies of more haggises squeeze into the chamber. Obviously the beasties weren’t going t let her escape without a fight, firing a couple more rounds at the snorting, hooting black and brown mass, she pushed the children on towards the service tunnel.

It was only when she’d got the children to the pile of earth under the tunnel mouth that she saw the flaw in her plan. To get the children out she’d have to lift them up so they could climb into the tunnel. While she was doing that she couldn’t fire and the haggises could attack.

“God damn it!” Kennedy cursed under her breath; lifting her rifle to her shoulder once more she fired into the advancing horde.

After seeing several haggises go down, Kennedy dropped her rifle and picked up the first child. The kid weighed nothing to her as she lifted him up.

“Grab hold of the edge there and pull yourself in kid,” she instructed, “crawl to the policeman at the other end okay?”

The boy did as he was told and disappeared into the tunnel. Turning to pick up the other child, Kennedy found herself looking into the red, angry eyes of a haggis that was almost on top of her. She felt its hot breath on her face as she pulled back her arm and punched the creature on the end of its snout. It honked loudly and shuffled back a step or two giving Kennedy time to snatch up her rifle. Firing from the hip, she sent the horrible haggises staggering back as she flayed them with her fire. Satisfied that she had the time, she picked up the other child and almost threw her into the tunnel.

“QUICK HONEY!” Kennedy yelled after the child, “CRAWL AS FAST AS YOU CAN!”

Turning to face the haggis horde, Kennedy just had time to pick up her rifle and fire before being crushed against the chamber wall. Drilling a neat hole in the closest haggis’s forehead she turned to fire at the next monster. Her heart almost stopped for a moment as she felt more than heard the hammer hit the firing pin and nothing happened. Snarling like a beast, she smashed the butt of her empty rifle into the face of the haggis that was trying to gore her with its tusks.

Sending the first creature staggering away, Kennedy searched in her pocket for her last magazine. Fumbling it into the housing, she was just in time to dodge a tusk as it swept by within inches of her stomach; if it had hit, her insides would be decorating the chamber floor. Jabbing frantically at the eye of another haggis that loomed up to menace her she made time for herself to haul back on the cocking handle and load the first round. Firing at a haggis that towered over her hooting a tune like ‘Scotland the Brave’ Kennedy fired. The haggis fell and she was just about to fire again when the chamber was filled by the sound of a terrific scream. Smashed up against the wall of the chamber, Kennedy felt her ribs bend and break; she screamed again, she couldn’t help herself, then she started to cough as the blood started to fill her lungs.

“Oh god!” Kennedy slid down the wall of the chamber, although the pain was worse than anything she’d ever experienced before she didn’t let it take her over.

Firing steadily into the advancing monsters and watching them fall, Kennedy slowly emptied her rifle. Laughing weakly as her blood stained her lips, she cursed the creatures; she’d make them pay for their next meal. Finally the rifle clicked on empty and she lay there helpless before the highland horrors. The haggises, sensing that her weapon was useless stopped their hooting and slowly advanced on the injured woman. Damn! Thought Kennedy as she watched the haggises come for her, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. She’d had so much left to do, so many plans, so much still to see.

“Those kids better’ve been worth it,” she coughed up more blood, she gave one last bitter laugh, “Here goes the last of the Scarpones, whacked by a fecking haggis!”

Suddenly the chamber was full of screaming haggises as blue lightening filled the air and arced from one creature to the next. It was at about as this point, Kennedy finally passed out.

0=0=0=0

*Bonnets so Blue; a tune from the time of the ‘Blue Bonnet Plague’ when everyone wore blue bonnets. 


	9. Chapter 9

9.

The Epilogue.

“I see,” Brigadier O’Brian stood in the corridor of the cottage hospital talking to Willow, “so you used a power cable to electrocute the haggises.”

“That’s right,” Willow smiled nervously up at the big marine, “then I dragged Kennedy out of the chamber to where Sergeant Peterson found us…”

“Hmmm,” O’Brian gave Willow what is referred to as ‘an old fashioned look’ which translates as, ‘I don’t believe a word of it’; he put a hand on Willow’s shoulder and steered her into a vacant room. “So, you did all that for your assistant? Are all academics at UCLA so conscientious?”

Willow gave the man a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders.

“You must love her very much,” whispered the officer who turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the room and off down the corridor to check on his own wounded.

“I do,” Willow told the empty room quietly.

0=0=0=0

Having sneaked into the underground workings, Willow had cast a locator spell and followed it to where Kennedy fought the haggises. Coming on the battle just as the haggises were going to tear her soon to be ex-lover apart, Willow had gone all black haired and vainy and destroyed all the haggises in the immediate vicinity. Exhausted by her use of magic she’d managed to drag the injured Kennedy out into the main tunnel where she’d been found by Sergeant Peterson and the rescued children.

Shortly after that they were joined by a party of marines and taken to the surface and on to the Cottage Hospital. Here Doctor Finley had delighted in explaining how she was only an ‘old’ country doctor as she worked on Kennedy’s injuries. In the meantime, the brigadier had moved back into the tunnels with his marines and exterminated the few remaining haggises.

0=0=0=0

Walking back into the room where Kennedy lay, Willow sat down on the chair next to the bed. Brushing a strand of hair away from the sleeping girl’s face she sighed sadly. Her eyes ran over the tubes and wires that snaked from her one time lover’s body to machines that monitored her vital signs and plastic bags that dripped plasma into her body. Knowing that Kennedy’s wounds would all heal didn’t help, Willow as she sat beside her; five broken ribs a punctured lung and various other traumas. They would all heal and fade in a week or so and she’d be up and about and heading back to the States and Willow would never see her again; she wiped away a tear that trickled down her cheek.

“Stupid witch,” Willow accused herself quietly.

“Och noo,” Willow looked up to see Constable McHenry standing in the doorway to the room, “foolish, maybe, but nay stupid.”

“W-what?” Willow looked up in alarm and wondered just how long the police constable had been standing there.

Walking across the room, McHenry sat down in a vacant chair and smiled at Willow.

“Janet McHenry,” she introduced herself formally, “sometime police constable and full time matchmaker nymph for the goddess Sheela-na-Gig.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Willow had never been any good at bluffing; but she was good at smelling the magic that buzzed all around the young woman now she’d revealed her true nature.

“Och, don’t be so modest,” laughed the young woman, “I know Miss Scapone here is a slayer and you, Miss Rosenberg are no more a doctor of criminology than I am…you’re a witch!”

“I’m not!” Willow felt herself sliding into the Witch Sketch from Monty Python and the Holy Grail; Janet McHenry gave her an indulgent smile.

“Miss Rosenberg,” Janet became more serious as she spoke, “we both have a problem which neither one of us can solve. But, by working together we can both have what we want.”

“Okay,” Willow said slowly as she drew her magics around herself ready to strike, “supposing I am a witch, what do you want…I’m not doing anything evil, okay?”

“What sort of nymph do you take me for?” Janet exclaimed, “I make matches for people so they can find their soul mates, I don’t turn people into frogs or try to end the world.”

“Oh!” Willow looked away from the nymph guiltily.

“Aye,” continued Janet, “my goddess has told me all about you.”

“She has?” Willow shifted uncomfortably in her chair, “She knows I’m better now, right?”

“Aye,” Janet nodded her head, “if she didn’t I wouldn’t be here now…she would!”

Just for a second, Willow saw the cheerful, pretty, young woman turn into a tall, red haired warrior woman standing in the back of a chariot with a spear in one hand and a sword in the other. Great black horses snorted and stamped in the harness of the chariot as thunder boomed and lightning crackled around tall mountains. As quickly as the vision had come it left and the hospital room went back to normal.

“So,” Willow sighed resignedly, “what do you want?”

“Nothing much,” smiled the nymph, “just a love spell.”

“But…” Willow frowned, “...aren’t you a matchmaker?”

“Aye,” agreed Janet, “but I cannae use my powers to aid my aine love life.”

“Who do you want to love you?” Willow asked warily.

“Och,” Janet sighed longingly, “Sergeant Peterson.”

“You love him?” Willow raised an eyebrow, the sergeant was a good ten or fifteen years older than McHenry…if in fact McHenry was fully human and not a couple of thousand years old then all bets were off.

“Aye,” Janet answered dreamily, “with all m’heart.”

“So,” Willow sat forward interested in spite of herself, “what do I get out of this?”

“Och, you get your aine true-love back,” Janet gestured at Kennedy, “you get to live out your lives together, however long or short that may be, in love and happiness.”

“No!” Willow shook her head, “I wouldn’t want her love if it was only there because of magic.”

“Och you silly goose!” Janet’s laughter was like sunshine, “She loves you, she wants to forgive you, but can’t see a way of doing it. The pair of you are made to be together it would actually be harder to keep you apart. All she needs is a little push…and I can supply that push.”

“All this for a love spell?” Willow frowned suspiciously at the nymph.

“Well,” laughed Janet, “I think asking for the soul of your first born would be a little pointless under the circumstances, don’t you?”

0=0=0=0

No more than a week later, Doctor Finley pronounced Kennedy fit to be moved. Willow was supervising the loading of her girlfriend into the back of the hire car when she turned to see Janet McHenry standing behind her.

“Just came tae wish you a safe journey,” smiled the nymph, “and say thank-you.”

“The spell worked?” Willow grinned.

“Like a dream,” Janet informed her, “we’ve not exactly set a date for the wedding but he’s coming ‘round to the idea.”

The two women hugged and wished each other well before Willow climbed into the car and started the engine.

“What was all that about?” Kennedy asked from the back seat.

“All what?” Willow replied innocently.

“All that about love spells?” Kennedy shifted her position and watched Willow’s reflection in the rear view mirror, “Slayer hearing remember?”

“Oh, no biggy,” Willow reassured her girlfriend, “just a very minor love potion…hardly magic at all.”

“That’s okay then,” Kennedy rested back on her pillow and closed her eyes.

“You close your eyes and have a snooze,” Willow suggested; for all her slayer bravado, Kennedy was still pretty ill.

Driving out into the snow covered countryside, Willow sighed with relief as she turned the car south. She’d be glad to leave Inverlochty what with its man-eating Haggises and the bad dreams she’d been having. All the time she’d been in the town she’d been having these dreams where Kennedy and herself were breaking up because she’d kissed some guy at a Christmas party and Kennedy had caught them. Then instead of just apologising (and probably getting a good spanking) she’d used magic to try and cover up her mistake. Of course it had all gone wrong and Kennedy was set on leaving her. Willow smiled as she drove, it had all just been a dream, she’d never do anything like that in real life. She’d never risk what Kennedy and herself had, not ever.

0=0=0=0

High on a crag overlooking the road Janet the nymph and her goddess watched Willow’s car as it drove south and out of the glen. 

“You were wise…” the goddess’s voice echoed in the snow laden air; she coughed and patted her chest, “That’s better,” she continued in a more normal voice, “now where was I? Oh, yes!” Clearing her throat again the goddess continued, “You were wise to bring this situation to my attention.”

“Och, good,” Janet the Nymph smiled.

“Yes,” Sheela-na-Gig said soberly, “it is important that the witch and the slayer are deeply in love when the end times come.”

“Aye,” Janet sighed sadly, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, my girl,” the goddess sniffed, “I’m a goddess!” Shifting her magnificent bust into a more comfortable position Sheela-na-Gig took a deep breath and nearly burst out of her dress, “When the end comes the slayer must lead the vengeance against the others…” Sheela-na-Gig looked sadly at her nymph, “I’m only sorry that you, my faithful and trusted servant, will have so little time with your own true love.”

“Aye,” Janet nodded her head dislodging the snowflakes that had settled on her hair, “I’ll just have tae make the best o’ the time we’ve got…” Janet hesitated before saying anything else, “Is…is there nothing…”

“Sorry, no,” Sheela-na-Gig shook her head.

“But!” Janet looked imploringly at her goddess.

“I know,” Sheela-na-Gig smiled kindly at her servant, “I’m a goddess I can do anything…but it has been written and so it must be.” She paused for a moment as an evil smile spread across her face, “Of course,” she said quietly, “once it _has_ happened what comes next is anybody's guess…anyway, I must be off now.”

The goddess smiled indulgently before turning and walking off into the swirling snow of the Scottish highlands. A moment later the goddess’s voice echoed out of the snow.

“Janet?” The Goddesses voice sounded confused, “Where’d I park my chariot?”

“Hoots, woman!” Janet turned to look for the goddess and her chariot, “How many time do I tell you to switch your four-way flashers on!”

The End.


End file.
